Taken

General Disclaimer: This is a fan fiction based on the television series Xena: Warrior Princess. All characters, locations, quotes, etc. borrowed from the show belong strictly to the original creators and whomsoever holds the ultimate copyrights. There is no intention of copyright infringement or profit wherein this fan fiction is concerned. The remaining ideas, storyline, characters, etc. are but a figment of my fevered mind and I will bear full responsibility for them.

Other Disclaimers:

Violence is inevitable and may even be overly graphic since a certain Warrior Princess is involved hence anyone who may be uncomfortable with such depictions is advised to avoid reading the story herein.

The story depicts a loving relationship between two consenting adult women and as such contain descriptions of a sexual nature, graphic and otherwise. In the event you are under the legal age wherever you may reside to be exposed to such contents or it is illegal in your country, please do not read any further. If a loving sexual relationship between two adults of the same gender makes you uncomfortable in any way, you might want to give this story a miss.

Please note that I will not be responsible for any trauma resulting from a failure to heed any of my warnings above.

Author's note:

It has always irked me that Xena never had her birthday celebrated on the original show. Since there was no mention of when she was born, I took the liberty of deciding a month and day of birth for her. Coincidentally, since I have my stories completely mapped out on a calendar, her birthday had to fall on 23 July for this story to turn out the way it did, which is kind of ironic since the month of July was renamed in honour of Julius Caesar. It also makes her a Leo, which I find oddly fitting, and I had some fun with it at the end.

Other than that, there are the usual references to episodes of the original show and the earlier Post-FIN stories so the usual spoiler alerts apply. - CM

Taken

The land between Perinthus and Byzantium was dominated by the Via Egnatia, a 6-metre-wide road that the Romans had constructed over a century ago. The road made life easier for the common folks, though it was the traders and the merchants who benefited the most. There was often a constant stream of carts and wagons travelling along this stretch of the Via Egnatia, moving goods and cargo between the two major trading ports, their rickety wheels trundling noisily over the stone-paved road as the drivers cursed and swore at anyone who got in their way.

The traffic was particularly bad during the peak hours of the early mornings and the late afternoons, when the drivers were rushing to make their deliveries in time. Furthermore, it was now summer. Rain was scarce, and the road itself was coated in a thick layer of animal dung—old and dried and stamped into the ground, or fresh and steaming and ready to be splattered all over any unsuspecting traveller who might wander too close.

Xena and Gabrielle, being well-seasoned travellers, chose to steer well clear of the main thoroughfare, keeping to the gentle rolling hills and scattered forests to the north. Here, the air was fresh and clean, and they could travel in relative peace and quiet. The pair walked side by side, reins in hand, their mounts plodding along patiently behind them.

They were on their way to the Caucasus Mountains, where they were supposed to meet up with Otrera and the Amazons. To get there, they would need to cross the Bosporus, which was why they were headed to Byzantium. It was the second last week of Iulius, according to the Roman calendar. In a little over two months, the weather conditions on the Black Sea would start to deteriorate, making it too dangerous for ships to navigate safely. But for now, the merchant ships plying the lucrative trade routes along the southern and eastern coast of the Black Sea were out in droves, scrambling to squeeze in as many trips as they could before the sailing window closed for the year.

There were four major trading cities on the south coast of the Black Sea, and only one on the east coast. If a ship kept their trade to the south coast, they could complete a round trip in a little under two weeks. If a ship went all the way to Phasis, which was on the east coast, a round trip would cost them an extra week. This meant that a ship could make three round trips between Byzantium and Trapezus in the time it would take to make two to Phasis. However, that was only half the story. Goods from Phasis were often in high demand, and they would fetch a higher price in Byzantium. With proper planning, a savvy captain could make a bigger profit from a trip to Phasis than two trips to Heraclea, Sinope, and Trapezus combined.

The soulmates hoped to secure passage on one of the ships headed to Phasis. With a little luck, and if there were no untoward delays, they could possibly arrive at the Caucasus Mountains as early as the new moon. That would give them two whole weeks before the planned rendezvous with the Amazons—more than enough time to hold their own private wedding ceremony and enjoy an uninterrupted week of wedding bliss. The ceremony would be a simple affair with just the two of them, witnessed only by the moon and the stars above. There would be ale for Xena, apple cider for Gabrielle; they would exchange wedding tokens and vows, followed by lots of hot steamy sex. At least, that was the plan. But there was a little problem. Gabrielle did not yet have a wedding token for her partner.

Despite their many years together, Gabrielle had never purchased a gift for the warrior. It wasn’t from a lack of desire on her part, because she had wanted to, more than once. But it was hard to buy a gift for someone when they didn’t need anything. Also, Xena had an aversion to receiving or accepting gifts of any kind. Which probably explained why they hadn’t ever celebrated the warrior’s birthday in all the time they’d been together. Not even once. In fact, Gabrielle didn’t know the month or year her partner had been born in. The warrior hadn’t volunteered the information, and she hadn’t asked.

It didn’t help that wedding tokens were usually jewellery—more commonly bracelets or rings that a wedded couple could wear as a symbol of their commitment to each other. As a warrior, Xena was nothing if not practical; jewellery was anything but that, and it would only get in the way of her fighting. The only exception Gabrielle could think of, was a bracelet, one that would fit inside the warrior’s vambrace. But it had already been done before—by Petracles, the now deceased warlord who’d famously convinced a young Xena to marry him. Gabrielle wanted her wedding token to be unique, something meaningful that represented the hope she had for their future, and which the warrior would not associate with any of her many former lovers.

She’d spent hours walking the markets in Perinthus, searching for some kind of inspiration. At the end of the day, she had picked up her fair share of bargains, including a number of frivolous items they could have done without. But nothing that would be suitable as a wedding token. Gabrielle hoped to have better luck in Byzantium. If she struck out again, Phasis might be her only hope.

Xena glanced over at her partner. The bard had been quiet for much of the morning, speaking only when spoken to. Once upon a time, the warrior would have been more than happy to enjoy the peace and quiet. But years of the bard constantly talking her ear off had changed that. “Denari for your thoughts?” she said.

Gabrielle had been so deep in thought that it took her a moment to realise the warrior was speaking to her. She considered making up some excuse about being tired but decided it would only needlessly worry her soulmate. It would also be a lie. She was now in her eleventh week of pregnancy and feeling more energetic than ever. Aware that she was taking too long to answer the question, Gabrielle blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, “Xena, we are to be married… but I still don’t know when your birthday is. We’ve never celebrated it.”

Xena frowned. “Gabrielle, you know why.”

The bard did know why. They’d never spoken about it, but Xena didn’t need to spell it out for Gabrielle to understand. The warrior deeply regretted her past and her actions; regretted the lives she had taken and destroyed. To Xena, her birthday was a day that should forever be cursed. And no matter how much good she’d done since then, she would never accept that the anniversary of her birth should be remembered or celebrated in any way.

“Xena, I respect that. I’m not saying we should start celebrating it. But I would like to know your birthday—if for no reason than to be able to say that I do,” Gabrielle said.

When her soulmate didn’t respond, Gabrielle immediately felt bad about bringing up the topic in the first place. She tried to think of a way to change the subject. But her mind was an absolute blank at the moment. “Uh… so… I understand if you don’t want to. It’s not really that important in the grand scheme of things. I mean, we’ve even been to Hell and back. I don’t know of anyone who could say that in good conscience, much less with a straight face. Not that anyone would believe us if we did—tell anyone, that is…”

The bard stopped herself. “Sorry, I’m babbling.”

“It’s okay, Gabrielle.” Xena took her partner’s free hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just… I haven’t thought about it for so long. I’m not sure I got the date right.”

On the surface, this seemed to be another attempt at avoiding the question. Nobody forgot their birthday—nobody. But that wasn’t true, was it? There were many people in the world like Xena. People who’d never celebrated their birthdays and who never had their birthdays celebrated for them. Gabrielle had been one of the lucky ones. Her family, when they’d been around to do so, had always made an effort to make her birthday special for her. And so had Xena, even though Gabrielle wasn’t too keen on the birthday pranks the warrior insisted were ‘tradition’.

“It’s tomorrow,” Xena said, all of a sudden.

This stopped Gabrielle dead in her tracks. She turned and stared at the warrior. “Your birthday is tomorrow?”

Xena gave a nonchalant shrug, as if it didn’t matter. And it didn’t. At least to her. “No celebrations,” she reminded her younger partner.

“No celebrations,” Gabrielle readily agreed.

Xena looked at her partner sideways. “And no pranks,” she added almost as an afterthought.

Gabrielle did not answer. Instead, she mounted Jason and flashed her soulmate a playful grin before riding away, as if daring the warrior to catch her and punish her for her impudence.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Xena vaulted effortlessly into her saddle and gave chase.

***

Thanks to their little game of ‘catch me if you can’ and the extra bit of exercise they put in afterwards, Gabrielle felt obliged to pay for a room with a bathtub. They had drawn the water themselves, lugging it all the way from the inn’s well out in the backyard, up the staircase and to their room. Or rather, Xena had. After all, it was the warrior’s fault they even needed a bath in the first place.

Once they were clean and their dirty clothes washed and hung up to dry, the pair fell into their usual nightly routine. Xena laid out her armour and weapons on the table and started cleaning and polishing them, while Gabrielle sat on the bed and wrote in her journal.

Since young, Gabrielle had kept a journal, using it to document the more memorable aspects of her life so she could look back on them from time to time. That changed shortly after she started travelling with Xena.

Life with the warrior was never dull. Every day was a new adventure. Initially, Gabrielle jotted them down dutifully, the same way she did when she used to write in her journal. But after attending the Athens City Academy of the Performing Bards, she realised how much she enjoyed telling stories about her life with Xena. That was when she started recording their adventures in the bardic tradition, so that she could perform them whenever she found a willing audience. She didn’t need them though, since she knew every one of their adventures by heart, and she preferred to switch up her delivery to cater to her audience, rather than recite them verbatim as bards generally did.

As for her journal, it became more of a repository for her private thoughts and feelings—most of which revolved around a certain warrior princess. What had started out as hero worship and a desire to prove herself as a worthy travel companion, quickly developed into genuine love and regard for the Destroyer of Nations turned reluctant hero. Xena became her friend, then her family. Before long, that love had crossed the boundaries of friendship and familial ties altogether, morphing into something more. Xena became her lover, then her undisputed life partner.

It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, however. The rapid-fire sequence of events of the past few months had made that abundantly clear to Gabrielle. One moment, she was having the best birthday of her life; the next, she was being brought to her knees by the devastating sight of her soulmate’s naked and arrow-ridden body hanging from the trees. In the few short weeks following Jappa, she’d almost lost Xena twice more. That was a record, even for them.

When they returned to Greece, Gabrielle thought she’d worked through the trauma and put it all behind her, but it was obvious that she hadn’t. Her reaction to Xena’s most recent brush with death was proof enough of that. Writing in her journal hadn’t helped. It was difficult to develop any kind of perspective when she was all up in her head—all day, every day. Gabrielle needed to talk it over with someone, and who better than her soulmate—the one person who knew her best, and the one person who could set her straight once and for all.

“Xena?” Gabrielle said.

“Hmm?”

“There’s something I need to get off my chest.”

The warrior stopped what she was doing and looked up. She hoped this meant her partner was finally ready to talk about what had happened during their last adventure. As someone who’d seen more than her fair share of death and destruction, the majority of which had come at her own hands, Xena was all too aware of the effect trauma could have on a person. She’d even told Gabrielle as much when the young woman ran away from home to follow her those many years ago.

Perhaps she should have tried harder to dissuade Gabrielle back then, but the hostile reception she’d received in her home town of Amphipolis had left her feeling vulnerable, and the idea of a friend who wouldn’t judge her for her sordid past had been too tempting to turn down.

In the beginning, Gabrielle had struggled to come to terms with the violence and the constant threat of injury and death. There were times things got so bad that Xena had second-guessed her decision to keep the young woman by her side. But the bard had always bounced back. That was because Gabrielle generally preferred to talk things out rather than bottle up her feelings and emotions. But that hadn’t been the case in recent days, as the bard had mostly kept to herself. Xena put down the pauldron she’d been polishing and nodded at her partner to continue.

Gabrielle looked down at her legs, crossed and recrossed them. She was nervous, and it showed. She took a deep breath, holding it in for a second longer than necessary, trying to calm her nerves. When that didn’t work, she decided to just go for it. “You’re a wild stallion. You cannot stand to be caged or tamed. I think that’s why you’ve always been attracted to Ares. He speaks to that part of you—the part that yearns to run free. He wants to set you free, to run wild with you. It’s the same with Otrera. They love that unbridled part of you. I—on the other hand—I wanted to cage you, to tame the wild out of you so that I could keep you by my side. When Eli brought you back without your dark side, you were everything I wanted you to be. But you weren’t you. That was when I realise I’d been treating you wrong all this time.”

There was a pause as Gabrielle gathered her resolve. She forced herself to look her soulmate straight in the eye. She wanted the truth—needed the truth. “Was it my expectations that pushed you towards Ulysses and Rafe?”

Xena didn’t know how to answer the question. She didn’t want to admit that her partner had hit the nail on the head. The bard had believed in her from the very beginning, and Xena didn’t want to disappoint the young woman. That was why she had held herself to such a high standard. And it was why she’d striven constantly to live up to the bard’s expectations.

But as her partner had pointed out, there was a part of her that could not and would not be tamed. It had chafed under the restrictions those expectations had placed upon her. And it longed, more than anything, to be free. Ulysses, Rafe, and even Mark Anthony had provided a tantalising glimpse of what that freedom might look like. Xena had been drawn to that. But even though they were very much her type, none of them could give her the life she wanted.

What Xena wanted, more than freedom and more than anything in the world, was to be with Gabrielle. And she was willing to accept everything that went with it. She just wished there was a way to make her soulmate understand that.

“Gabrielle, why are we talking about this?” Xena asked. “You know where my heart lies. I chose you. Not Ares, not Otrera, and definitely not Ulysses or Rafe.”

“I guess it’s my insecurity speaking,” Gabrielle admitted. “Hercules? Ares? Otrera? Compared to them, I am—nothing.”

She held up a hand to forestall the warrior’s protest. “When I returned home that first year, I realised I no longer belonged. It wasn’t because of who I was, but what I’d learned—from you. Everything I have accomplished in my life is because of you, Xena. I asked you to teach me everything you know. And you did. Without you, I would still be an ordinary peasant girl from Potidaea. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I feel… I feel that I’ll never be enough for you.”

“I’ve always struggled to feel worthy of you—of your love,” Gabrielle continued. “Sometimes, I still feel that way. I know I told you I wanted to be a warrior. But that wasn’t true. It was just so you would agree to take me with you. I couldn’t even win a fight against Lila. The way of love—I think that would have suited me better.”

“I know,” Xena said. She had so many regrets when it came to the younger woman. This was one of them. “I never wanted this for you. You were so happy when Eli introduced you to the way of love. I didn’t want you to give it up—”

“I couldn’t stand by and let you die. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hadn’t done everything I could to save you. Xena, I don’t regret choosing the path I am on now. I’m just trying to explain why I feel so inadequate.”

That had come out wrong, Gabrielle realised as soon as she said the words. It sounded as if she was blaming Xena—which she wasn’t. Her eyebrows knitted together as she considered her next words carefully.

“I’m doing a terrible job of explaining myself,” Gabrielle said. “You’re larger than life, Xena. Anyone would feel inadequate next to you. I used to think you would leave me one day—leave me for someone else. But when you came for me in Rome, I realised you were fully committed to me, just as I was fully committed to you. That doesn’t mean I no longer fear losing you. I still do. I’m afraid, overwhelmingly so, that I will lose you to your constant need for redemption; that it would be Jappa all over again, and that you would choose your guilt over me. I know I’m being selfish. But Xena, I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. I just can’t.”

Xena wished she could reassure the bard that Jappa had been a once-off. But it would be a bald-faced lie. Even if she could go back in time and do it all over again, she didn’t think she would be able to choose her partner over the 40,000 souls. And despite what Gabrielle was saying, Xena doubted her soulmate would be willing to let those souls be condemned for eternity either.

Thankfully, that question was moot. The warrior hadn’t been responsible for the 40,000 people who had died in the fire that had engulfed Higuchi four decades ago. That could be laid firmly at the feet of Mikaboshi and Yodoshi. Xena wished she could blame Gabrielle’s trauma on them as well. But that was all on her. She stood up and walked over to the bed.

Verbalising her doubts and her fears should have been cathartic, but Gabrielle found herself caught up in a flashback brought on by the dark memories of Jappa. A sharp stone was digging mercilessly into her right knee. She was vaguely aware of the rain and the cold, but all she could focus on was the body of the woman she loved. Her brain tried and failed to make sense of what she was seeing. Her head. They had taken her head. The cowards had taken her head as a trophy. Shock gave way to anger. She would get Xena’s head back. She would make them pay for desecrating her soulmate’s body. Something, a hand, brushed against her back, and she flinched, reaching instinctively for the katana at her side. And then she was back in the present—warm and dry, and enfolded in the loving arms of her soulmate. Gabrielle forced herself to relax into the embrace. She burrowed her face into Xena’s bosom, inhaled the warrior’s warm earthy scent, and used that to chase away the remaining vestiges of the flashback.

“I’m sorry,” Xena murmured into Gabrielle’s hair, holding her close.

Gabrielle pulled herself away from the embrace. She cupped Xena’s face in her hands, looked her square in the eyes, and whispered pleadingly, “Help me forget.”

Xena’s heart broke for her soulmate. She wished she could take away the memory and the pain. But she couldn’t. So she did the only thing she could. She kissed Gabrielle, then spent the next hour using her many skills to help her soulmate forget.

***

Xena had one task that morning—to head to the docks and secure passage on a ship heading east, preferably to Phasis. Due to the challenging weather conditions of the Black Sea, ships usually stayed close to the coastline. This was for a number of reasons. One, it was easier to navigate using physical landmarks. Two, they could take advantage of the strong currents running to the east along the southern coast, and running to the north along the eastern coast. Three, the ships could be brought up onto land each night to keep them from accidentally sustaining damage in the dark, and the crew could rest ashore. Because of this, ships sailing the Black Sea would invariably set off once it was light enough to do so safely. That meant the ships headed out today would be long gone by now. Any ships still in the dock were likely to be waiting for either crew or cargo, and would not set sail until tomorrow.

Since Gabrielle had insisted on getting some shopping done by herself today, Xena had plenty of time to talk to the captains of those ships still in the dock. She needed to negotiate passage not only for her and Gabrielle, but also for their mounts. That made it doubly difficult, since merchant ships generally filled out their cargo holds at every port to maximise their profits. Taking on an extra paying passenger or two would be easy enough, but horses took up too much space. It would be cheaper to leave them behind. But they had a long journey ahead of them, and the horses would come in handy, especially once Gabrielle’s pregnancy progressed to the point where walking became too difficult. Besides, they didn’t know how long they would be staying in Chin, or if they would ever return to Greece for anything more than a brief visit. It wouldn’t be fair to leave Argo behind. Or Jason for that matter. After all, they were supposed to be a two-horse family.

Xena glanced over at the bed to make sure Gabrielle was fast asleep, before turning her attention back to the scroll she’d fished out of her soulmate’s backpack. The events of last night had left her wondering if the bard was closer to breaking under the strain of the past few months than she’d initially thought. She had left Gabrielle to her own devices for the most part, stepping in only when necessary. It wasn’t that she didn’t care; she did—deeply. But she also knew from personal experience that this was something her partner had to navigate on her own.

It was the same as the time Gabrielle had betrayed the warrior to Ming T’ien in Chin. The bard had hidden the truth behind her betrayal, burying it so deep that it would not surface until months later, when her guilt started gnawing away at her. She couldn’t eat, she couldn’t sleep, and she couldn’t escape the memories and the nightmares her subconsciousness conjured up to torment her.

Xena had noticed. How could she not? But while she had her suspicions, it wasn’t until she overheard the younger woman talking in her sleep that she finally pieced the puzzle together. She knew her partner would break if things continued the way they were, so she arranged for them to meet at the Temple of Mnemosyne. It was where people who couldn’t live with their pain went—to get rid of their memories altogether—the good with the bad. Gabrielle had entered the temple, and dredged up the ugly truth—it had been her hatred and jealousy that had driven her to betray Xena, almost killing the warrior in the process.

This time, there hadn’t been any nightmares, at least not since their return to Greece, and Xena had truly believed her soulmate had gotten over the trauma of the past few months. That was until last night, when she’d caught glimpses of the nightmare that used to plague Gabrielle in the days immediately after leaving Jappa. Except it wasn’t a nightmare; it was a flashback—one so vivid it had managed to replace reality completely—at least for a couple of seconds. That, more than anything, had worried Xena. So much so that she thought it would be prudent to look through her soulmate’s private journal. Except, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

It would be an egregious violation of her soulmate’s privacy—a betrayal of trust that would be worse than anything she’d inflicted upon the younger woman in all their years together. Xena returned the journal to its original position, picked up her scabbard from the table, and was about to sling it over her back when Gabrielle stirred from her slumber.

Gabrielle, I’ll love you forever and always. Xena’s dying declaration echoed in Gabrielle’s head as she bolted upright in bed, her heart racing a mile a minute, her mouth dry. She looked around frantically, her eyes alighting with relief on the sight of the warrior, alive and well, standing by the table. It had been a dream—just a dream. Or was it? It had felt so real.

“Xena?” Gabrielle could hear the tremor in her voice. That was when she realised her body was shaking uncontrollably. “Xena,” she repeated more insistently.

“I’m here,” Xena said soothingly as she slid onto the bed and held the trembling bard. “I’m right here.”

Gabrielle clung desperately to her partner. She pressed her ear up against the warrior’s chest, panicking anew when she heard nothing. Then her senses returned in full, and she finally heard the strong, steady ba-dum ba-dum of her soulmate’s heart. A ragged sigh escaped her lips and she slumped against the warrior. “I c-c-can’t seem to st-st-stop sh-sha-king-ing,” Gabrielle said through chattering teeth.

“You’re cold,” Xena said, rubbing her hands vigorously over the bard’s arms in an attempt to warm them up. “I’ll get the bed furs.”

The warrior made to stand, but Gabrielle refused to let her go. “N-n-no. Don’t g-go…”

“Alright,” Xena said, sitting back down and wrapping her arms around the younger woman once again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Cocooned safely within her partner’s crushing embrace, Gabrielle’s heartbeat gradually returned to normal. Slowly, but surely, her body ceased its shaking. The shock of having witnessed the love of her life bleed out and die in her arms was fading, and she found that she was able to breathe again. Or she would be, once Xena stopped squeezing the air out of her.

“You can let go of me now,” Gabrielle told the warrior.

Xena relaxed her grip but didn’t let go completely. She didn’t know what had brought on the bard’s meltdown, but she could venture a guess. “Nightmare?” she asked.

Gabrielle shook her head. “I don’t know. It kind of felt real.”

“Like one of your dreams?” Xena pressed gently.

“No… not like that.” Gabrielle did not know how to explain the difference to her soulmate. It reminded her of the nightmares she’d had after Xena’s death on Mount Nestus, and later Jappa. The difference was—those had been actual memories; this wasn’t.

Gabrielle took a long, deep breath and slowly let it out. It was a dream—just a dream. Her soulmate was alive and well. And so was she. “It’s just a dream, Xena. You know how it is. Aren’t you supposed to be at the docks already?”

“I was worried about you,” Xena admitted.

“That’s sweet. But there’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.”

That statement earned Gabrielle a quirked eyebrow from the warrior.

“Okay, I admit I’m not there yet,” Gabrielle said. “But I’ll get there… As long as you stop dying on me.”

Xena ignored the bard’s none-too-subtle dig. Dying was never the plan. At least, it wasn’t usually the plan. But her soulmate already knew that. There was nothing to be gained by rehashing old ground, so she changed the subject entirely. “Why don’t I go shopping with you? I can hit the docks after lunch.”

“No!” Gabrielle blurted out before she could stop herself. She was horrified when she caught the briefest look of hurt flash deep within the warrior’s eyes.

Xena’s normally bluish-grey eyes turned a steely blue. “Looks like I’m headed to the docks then,” she said in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice that gave no sign she’d been hurt by her soulmate’s brusque refusal. She gave Gabrielle a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, then went to pick up her chakram and scabbard from the table.

Gabrielle trailed behind the warrior, caught between needing to make things right and not wanting to divulge the real reason she didn’t want her soulmate tagging along on this shopping trip. Xena hated shopping, and she would not have offered to tag along if she hadn’t been truly worried. The warrior didn’t deserve to be turned down like an unwanted suitor.

“Xena…” Gabrielle grabbed her soulmate’s arm apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way… I—”

“It’s okay, Gabrielle,” Xena said, cupping the bard’s left cheek in the palm of her callused right hand. “I understand.”

Gabrielle looked searchingly into her soulmate’s eyes. They were no longer shuttered, and they had reverted to their usual colour. There was no sign of the hurt she’d seen earlier. Nor was there any reproach or bitterness—just love and tenderness. “I love you, Xena.”

“And I love you, Gabrielle.” This time, the warrior gave her partner a full kiss on the lips, which was promising to develop into something more when she pulled away with a smirk and a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “We’ll continue this after lunch.”

“You’re such a tease,” Gabrielle complained. The kiss, and the accompanying tongue action, had left her feeling all hot and bothered. She didn’t want to stop and put everything on hold for two full hours.

“You don’t want to miss the morning market, do you?”

“I knew it. This is your idea of payback, isn’t it?”

Gabrielle’s only answer was the warrior’s low chuckle as she opened the door and left the room.

“We’ll see who gets the last laugh!” Gabrielle shouted after her.

***

While most taverns were open for lunch, they did the majority of their business in the late evenings and well into the night. Since dinner was the most important meal of the day, lunch was often a simple affair—consisting of cold hard bread and cheese or a platter of dried nuts and fruits. Sometimes, a tavern would offer leftovers from the night before, often at a greatly discounted price, hoping to recover the cost of the ingredients from some hungry patron.

When Xena arrived at the tavern slightly before noon, there were only three patrons, none of them Gabrielle. She got herself a mug of cold ale, and sat down at one of the side tables with a clear view of the entrance. For the last hour and a half, she’d been down at the docks, listening in on the gossip of the crewmen, and speaking with the merchants. In the end, she had narrowed down her options to two ships. Both were headed to Phasis, both had space in their cargo hold for two horses, and both were expected to set out tomorrow. The captain of the first ship had been fairly reasonable until Xena told him about the horses. He then jacked up the price twenty times.

The captain of the second ship wasn’t interested in taking on passengers, paying or otherwise. At least until Xena let slip that she’d once captained her own ship. The slip wasn’t as accidental as she’d made it out to be. She’d learned that the ship’s second-in-command had died the night before, after a drunken fight with the crew of another ship. Without a capable replacement, the ship could be delayed indefinitely, resulting in huge losses for the shipowner, the crew, and the captain. This was Xena’s ace in the hole. And it worked. Once the captain verified her skills for himself, he offered her a spot on the ship as his second-in-command. In lieu of wages, he would provide free passage for Gabrielle, Argo, and Jason. However, the soulmates would be responsible for their own food and drink, as well as feed and water for their mounts, which was standard. All in all, it was a good deal, especially when compared to what the other captain was asking. Gabrielle would be pleased.

Speaking of Gabrielle, Xena wondered what was keeping the bard. If the sunlight outside the entrance of the tavern was any indication, it was easily an hour past noon. Her soulmate was late, not that Xena was particularly worried. At least not yet. It had happened before. The bard was known to lose track of time when shopping, especially if she was too busy chasing down a bargain or having too much fun haggling with a merchant over the price of whatever she’d set her eye on. Xena considered calling Gabrielle on their soul-link to check in but thought better of it. She would let her partner enjoy her shopping for a little while longer. After all, they weren’t in any hurry.

When another half hour passed with still no sign of the bard, Xena decided she’d had enough of waiting. She tapped into her soul-link and reached out to her soulmate. Gabrielle, it’s way past noon. Where are you?

She waited. One second, two seconds, three… When there was still no reply after thirty seconds, she tried again. Gabrielle?

Again, Xena waited. And again, there was silence. She thought back to their last exchange. Could this be a prank? Payback for all the birthday pranks she had played on the hapless bard over the years? Not that the pranks were ever one-sided. Gabrielle often gave as good as she got, including once dumping a bucket of stinking fish guts all over the freshly bathed warrior. But the younger woman would never go this far. Or would she?

Gabrielle, if this is a prank, it isn’t funny. Xena made sure her tone got through loud and clear. Her partner knew the drill. They could laugh and joke around and act all silly. But when she switched to her no-nonsense voice, it meant the time for fun and games was over, and it was time to get serious. So, when this failed to elicit any response, Xena knew something was wrong.

She drained her now lukewarm ale, paid for some bread and cheese, and headed out into the blistering hot afternoon to look for her soulmate. Thanks to their soul-link, Xena didn’t need to waste time asking around or searching for tracks. She knew the general direction Gabrielle was in, though navigating through the packed market streets proved more trying than anticipated. It would have been easier if she could fly or bound from rooftop to rooftop. But she wasn’t a bird. And the latter would only earn her a trip to the city jail, courtesy of the city militia, for causing alarm, or disturbing the peace, or some other trumped-up charge.

The warrior stuck to the streets, backtracking more than once when the street she turned into came to a dead end or led her in the wrong direction. After a while, she left the markets behind her and entered the seedy dark underbelly of Byzantium. Every city had one. This was where the criminal elements carried out their illicit activities, where the poor were forced to live in deplorable conditions, and where everything and anything could be bought as long as one had the means to do so.

Cutpurses and conmen watched Xena’s every move as she made her way through the rubbish-strewn streets. They studied her armour, her weapons, the seeming absence of a money pouch, and the way she nonchalantly stepped over the corpses hidden amongst the detritus. One by one, they weighed their chances. And one by one, they slunk away into the safety of the dark alleys, leaving the warrior to walk through the streets of their domain unmolested. This was one mark that was more trouble than it was worth.

Run-down insulae lined both sides of the street. Usually, the ground level of an insula was taken up by shops and businesses. Here, they had been converted into shared living quarters or were left vacant. Everything was in disrepair, and the smell of human waste hung thick in the air. Xena wondered what had brought her soulmate here—if the bard had been lured here under false pretences. The thought of any harm befalling Gabrielle made the warrior’s blood run cold, and she silently berated herself for having waited this long. She would never be able to live with herself if anything happened to the bard, or to their as-yet-unborn child. But this wasn’t the time for regret or self-flagellation. That could wait until after Gabrielle was safe.

Xena picked up her pace.

***

Gabrielle opened her eyes. It was pitch black. Was it night, already?

She was lying on her side on what she presumed to be the cold, hard floor. The back of her neck throbbed. When she tried to move, she realised the bed furs she’d thought herself wrapped in, was actually rope. Someone had wound rope around her arms, her torso, and her legs, wrapping her up like a caterpillar in a cocoon. To further complicate matters, her wrists were tied behind her back.

She tested her bonds. They were snug, without being overly tight, though it was unlikely she could get free of them without any help. She figured she might be able to inch along the floor like an earthworm if she could get onto her stomach. It would be slow-going, but doable. However, she had no idea where she was, and it was too dark to make out her surroundings. She didn’t want to risk stumbling into a trap or falling to her death. It would be more prudent to stay where she was, until she had more information to go on.

Gabrielle remembered being at the markets that morning. She’d stopped in briefly at a bronze smith, to enquire about the possibility of commissioning a new breastplate for her soulmate. She was told a simple cuirass would take three to four weeks. For a highly personalised and decorative breastplate, like the one Xena wore, it would take significantly longer. The oriental dragons of the Southern Forest clan had managed to replicate the warrior’s breastplate in less time than that, though it had still taken them more than a week. Gabrielle didn’t have that kind of time, and the cost was prohibitive. It was just as well. She didn’t truly think armour or weapons made for suitable wedding tokens. But nothing else at the markets had caught her fancy, and she was already running late for her lunch appointment with Xena. Add on the disturbing dream she had earlier, and she could have been distracted enough for someone to have jumped her.

Xena is going to be so pissed, Gabrielle thought. Her first instinct was to contact the warrior through their soul-link, but she remembered her dream from that morning and hesitated. In the dream, she’d been held captive, much like she was now. And Xena had been cut down by an arrow coming to her rescue. The circumstances might have been similar, but there were clear differences. In the dream, she’d been out in the open, with the sun blazing down on her overhead. Here, she was in an enclosed space, and it was dark. But Gabrielle wasn’t willing to take the risk that the dream hadn’t been a premonition.

Before she could change her mind, she heard the creaking of rusty hinges, followed by a loud thump, and then footsteps. A pale-yellow glow drifted through the darkness towards her. As it drew closer, she realised it was a lantern, held by a slight figure—possibly a woman. The lantern hung close to the floor, its weak light illuminating little more than the legs and feet of the person holding it. They were wearing beige wraparound sandals with leather straps criss-crossing all the way up to their knees. The smooth skin, and the lack of visible body hair on the legs left no doubt in Gabrielle’s mind that the person must be a woman.

“Good, you’re awake. I was getting worried I might have hit you too hard,” the woman said.

The voice was familiar. Gabrielle had heard it before, but she was having a hard time putting a face or a name to the voice. As if recognising this, her self-confessed abductor lifted the lantern up to their face, revealing the deceptively cherubic features of a woman Gabrielle had once admired deeply, and for whom she’d almost left Xena for. Her stomach dropped. “Najara.”

“Hello Gabrielle, we meet again.” Najara smiled warmly at the bard, her voice all friendly and welcoming, which was totally at odds with the situation they were in. “The djinn told me I would see you again. I’ve waited so long for this day. But I kept the faith. And here you are.”

It had been nearly three decades since the soulmates had left a comatose Najara in an asylum. At the time, it was unclear if Gabrielle’s one-time love interest would ever regain consciousness. But here she was, clearly in possession of her senses, and looking perfectly healthy. Somehow, instead of rotting away in jail for the innocent lives she’d taken during her time as a self-professed crusader of the light, she was free—either because the authorities had seen fit to release her, or she had escaped.

Gabrielle voiced the first thought that came to mind, “You don’t seem to have aged a day since I last saw you.”

“You haven’t aged much either.”

“I was put on ice for 25 years,” Gabrielle shot back. “What’s your excuse?”

The smile on Najara’s face faltered. “Now, now. There’s no need for that kind of hostility between friends. And we are friends, aren’t we?” She crouched down in front of Gabrielle and set the lantern down beside her.

“Friends don’t knock their friends out or tie them up like an animal to be sacrificed.”

“It’s regrettable, but necessary. I couldn’t risk letting you get away. I’ve already failed twice before. I’m not going to fail again this time.”

That struck Gabrielle as odd. While their second and third meetings were clearly contrived, their initial meeting had seemed completely natural at the time. Najara’s men had attacked the soulmates, believing them to be in cahoots with the slave trader, Marat of Crete. The fight had brought Najara running to her men’s aid, which was how they had ended up making one another’s acquaintance. Now it seemed that it might not have been such an innocent encounter after all.

“What do you mean you have already failed twice?” Gabrielle asked. “Why am I here?”

Najara casually folded her legs under her and sat down on the dusty floor, as if settling in for a chat with an old friend. “Do you remember when we first met? We hit it off instantly. It was like we were two peas in a pod—kindred spirits seeking to change the world for the better. Do you ever wonder what our lives would be like now if we’d opened that hospice together? You and I, working side by side to end all the pain and suffering in this world. That would’ve been nice, wouldn’t it?”

Gabrielle remembered things a little differently. She couldn’t deny that she had been drawn to the self-proclaimed crusader of light from the outset. Here was this accomplished warrior, who not only fought for good, but who also took time out to smell the roses. At the time, Najara had seemed so happy and so convicted of who she was and what she was doing.

More importantly, Najara was the exact opposite of Xena. Yes, Xena fought for the greater good, but she was more of a tortured hero—one whose dark past weighed heavily upon her, and who was too intent on making up for that past to allow herself to enjoy the simple things in life. Najara was everything Gabrielle wished Xena could be—an ordinary person, like her. However, that illusion was quickly dashed, when she found out the truth about the supposed warrior of light.

“Did you know?” Najara continued without waiting for an answer. “Xena asked me to start the hospice in that village. She wasn’t planning on coming back for you. She abandoned you. And she has hurt you time and time again. Yet you continue to stay by her side. Why is that?”

“We can have a proper conversation if you untie me,” Gabrielle told her.

“I can’t do that.”

“Fine. You want to know why? That is why. Xena would have freed me without me asking her to. And we both know the only reason she left me with you was to protect me, something you conveniently left out.” It wasn’t until India, when Alti had shown her the vision of their death, that Gabrielle had learned why her soulmate had initially tried to leave her behind.

“Najara, it’s been thirty years,” Gabrielle said. “You have a second chance at life. You can open your hospice and do so much good. Why are you doing this?”

“I’m saving you from yourself,” Najara said.

***

Xena’s soul-link led her to the southwest corner of the city, towards an insula that was virtually indistinguishable from its neighbours. A narrow corridor on the ground floor opened into a small foyer where a water fountain gurgled weakly. To the rear, a staircase provided access to the apartments above. Alcoves on the left and right led to shared dormitories.

When the soulmates had first learned about the existence of their soul-link, they didn’t know they could use it in the way they did now. After all, it had existed for decades without either of them knowing about it; it was just—there. In Chin, with the bard about to face off with a powerful dragon lord, the pair had started experimenting with their soul-link, hoping that they could find a way for Gabrielle to tap onto Xena’s abilities and powers.

That was when they discovered they could communicate telepathically through their soul-link. Additionally, if they focused, they could actually sense their soulmate on the other end. In the beginning, it was only a vague sense of direction. After a while, they learned to narrow it down to a general vicinity. And later still, a specific location. Now, they could pinpoint each other’s whereabouts almost exactly, except when there were multiple levels involved. Which was exactly what Xena was currently faced with. The insula was 7 storeys high. Her soul-link could tell her where Gabrielle was, but not which storey she was on.

The building might be derelict, but there were people living in it. The shared dormitories were likely to be empty, since it was still fairly early in the day, and the itinerant workers who used the bed spaces would be away at work. The apartments above were a different matter altogether. Those were usually rented out to families, which often included children and possibly the elderly. If Gabrielle wasn’t on the ground floor of the insula, Xena would need to come up with a way to locate her soulmate which didn’t include kicking down doors and barging uninvited into the homes of the innocent. The people who lived here were already struggling to make ends meet, they didn’t need to be victimised further. Besides, the warrior princess had a rule against kicking people when they were down.

Xena followed her soul-link through the alcove into the shared dormitory on the right. At first glance, the place appeared empty, but she gave it a thorough search all the same. No Gabrielle, so she returned to the foyer and entered the other dormitory. Here, all but one of the beds were empty. It was occupied by a skeletally thin man who looked as if he hadn’t had a proper meal in days. Xena checked the rest of the dormitory before cautiously approaching the man who was regarding her suspiciously.

Trying not to appear overly threatening, Xena hunched in on herself and spoke in a quiet voice that could almost pass for gentle. “You look like you could use some food.”

She took out a portion of the bread and cheese she’d bought earlier and offered it to him. “Here, take it.”

The words had barely left her mouth before the man lunged awkwardly at her. He grabbed the packet of bread and cheese, hurriedly unwrapped it, and started wolfing everything down.

“Take it easy,” Xena warned, right as the man inhaled a piece of bread into his windpipe and broke out into a coughing fit.

His face turned red with the effort, his eyes bulging out of his skull-like face. Xena was about to intervene, when a violent hacking cough propelled the offending object out of his open maw like a slingshot. He took a moment to catch his breath, his free hand scrabbling through the mess on his bed before emerging triumphantly with a battered waterskin that had seen better days. After a quick drink, he continued chowing down, this time at a more measured pace.

“Have you seen any strangers around here? Anyone suspicious?” Xena asked.

The man paused long enough in his eating to point a finger at the warrior.

“I’m the only one?”

The man nodded.

“Where would you go if you needed somewhere to hide in this building?”

The man swallowed the last bit of the bread before answering, “Basement.”

Xena hadn’t even considered that the insula had a basement. It made sense though. The shops that usually occupied the ground floor of an insula would need a place to store their goods—somewhere safe and secure. What better place than a basement, hidden away from prying eyes and safe from light fingers. She didn’t have a clue where the basement was, or how to get there. Luckily, she knew someone who did. “Can you show me where it is?”

The man nodded again.

***

Gabrielle was growing weary of their conversation. Najara seemed intent on talking in circles instead of answering her questions directly. It also didn’t help that she had a serious kink in her neck she couldn’t stretch out, and which was exacerbated by the awkward position she had been forced to adopt as a result of her restraints.

For someone who once dreamed of ending everyone’s pain and suffering by opening a hospice, Najara didn’t seem to care about Gabrielle’s comfort or welfare at all. This shouldn’t have surprised the bard. The self-proclaimed crusader of light had been trying to present herself as a kind and loving do-gooder since their first meeting. And Gabrielle had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. She’d ignored the many discrepancies and warning signs; even butted heads with Xena on multiple occasions, all because of her misplaced faith in Najara.

For the first time, Gabrielle saw Najara for who she truly was—a woman who desperately needed something to believe in, and who would do anything to realise her beliefs. Najara was a fanatic. She said all the right things, and she even believed what she was saying. But they were empty words. Najara did not care about anyone or anything—other than her beliefs. That was what made her so dangerous.

“Save me from what?” Gabrielle asked.

“The first time we met, I told you that you’d retained your good heart and chosen to fight the darkness within you. When our paths crossed the second time, you’d conquered your darkness. You’d found your way—the way of love. And you were determined to break the cycle of hatred and violence by promoting peace. The djinn tell me you have picked up the sword again. What happened to peace? To fighting evil without violence? Looks like Xena has corrupted you. I warned you this would happen.”

“No, Najara. Xena didn’t force me to pick up the sword.” Gabrielle remembered that day vividly—the day she’d turned her back on Eli’s teachings and picked up a weapon with every intention of using it. She, along with Eli and his followers, had been taken hostage by Brutus and held in a prison compound at the foot of Mount Amaro. Xena must have known this was where the vision of their deaths would come to pass. She could have stayed away. But the warrior had come anyway, single-handedly storming the prison compound and rescuing everyone.

Gabrielle had hung back, waiting for Xena so they could leave the prison compound together. But things had gone horribly wrong. Suddenly, the warrior had gone down, with no one near her. At the time, Gabrielle didn’t know that Xena had been struck in the back by Callisto with her own chakram. She only knew that her friend was on the ground, unable to defend herself or escape. And the Roman soldiers were closing in, their deadly intent all to clear.

“I did it willingly,” Gabrielle said. “I picked up the sword, not out of hatred, but out of love—love for my friend. I don’t regret my decision. If I had to go back and do it all over again, knowing what I know now, I would make the same choice. This is my way of love now.”

Najara shook her head, partly in disappointment and partly in disapproval. “Your love for Xena has blinded you. It always has. You may not regret your decision to turn your back on the way of love, but you should. That decision, together with the decisions you have made and continue to make, has put your soul in danger. This is your last chance. You have to choose—between Xena and your own soul.”

“You don’t understand. Xena is my soul,” Gabrielle said. And also the mother of my unborn child. Though she kept that last part to herself.

“That’s why you need to choose,” Najara insisted. “If you stay with her, your soul will be lost to the darkness. Xena isn’t who you think she is. She isn’t a hero, she hasn’t changed. She is, and always will be, a killer. Her hands are drenched in the blood of the people she has killed over the years—more than you and I combined.”

“That was in the past—”

Najara continued on as if Gabrielle hadn’t interrupted her, “The djinn have showed me the truth. The violence that lives in her heart can only be satisfied with death and more death. What do you think she’s doing right now? I’ll tell you. She’s killing innocent people—people who have done nothing wrong other than get in her way.”

Gabrielle didn’t believe her. “Xena wouldn’t kill the innocent.”

The bard hadn’t come right out and accuse Najara of lying. But she might as well have. To Najara, this was just another example of Gabrielle’s unwavering loyalty to Xena. She had tried. But it was clear she wasn’t getting through to the bard. Her best chance of winning Gabrielle over had come and gone—twenty-nine long years ago to be precise. Even then, she wasn’t sure she could have replaced Xena in the bard’s heart. Najara wished she’d killed the warrior back then. Gabrielle would be hers now, and none of this would need to happen.

“You’ve committed fully to your life with Xena. That’s unfortunate,” Najara said. “It means, you’ll never be free to live your life until she’s dead.”

Gabrielle was quick to remind Najara that she could never live with anyone who killed Xena.

“I haven’t forgotten. That’s why I’m sending you to the light instead. But don’t worry. You won’t be alone. I’ll be right behind you. We’ll be together—for eternity.”

There was a dangerous gleam in Najara’s eyes, one that Gabrielle had seen up close and personal twice before. It was a sign that the zealot, Najara’s true self, had broken free, and was ready to wreak utter and complete havoc in the name of her twisted beliefs.

Najara’s right hand disappeared into the folds of her tunic. When it reappeared a moment later, there was something in it, though it was too dark to make out what it was. That was until the zealot obligingly moved the object into the glow of the lantern, and Gabrielle caught the all-too-familiar glint of light reflecting off a polished metal surface—in this case, a small elongated blade.

***

The man crossed the foyer, seemingly headed for the empty dormitory on the other side of the insula. Xena followed close behind. But instead of going straight through the unlit alcove, he stopped midway through and turned right, into a hidden passageway that the warrior had not noticed when she’d been through this way earlier.

In the semi-darkness, it was hard to make out many details, even with Xena’s keen eyesight. But she noticed the footprints that had been left in the dust at the entrance to the passageway. They were clear and distinct. Someone had passed this way recently.

The man kept his left hand on the wall at all times as he made his way through the unlit passageway. After a short distance, he turned left, then left again, before stepping to the side and gesturing to an opening up ahead. Xena nodded her thanks, waved him back, and was about to step through when her soul-link suddenly lit up like someone had thrown an amphora of wine onto a bonfire.

Xena!

This was immediately followed by an image of a dark cavernous room, and a familiar but unexpected face. The image then changed, as Gabrielle glanced down, revealing the ropes wound around her body, before focusing her attention back on her abductor, and the object her abductor had in her hand. It was a dagger, and it looked wickedly sharp. Adrenaline surged through the warrior, and her pulse quickened.

Hold on, Gabrielle. I’m coming.

Xena stepped through the opening, her eyes quickly scanning the room before her. Smashed crates and broken furniture had been pushed to either side, clearing a path to a trap door set into the floor. The same footprints she’d seen earlier went all the way up to the trap door. If Xena needed further proof that Gabrielle and Najara were down there, this was it.

The rusty hinges squealed in protest as she yanked the trap door open. A ladder led down into the darkness. Xena ignored it. Climbing down the ladder would take far too long. She leapt straight down into the darkness, landing lithely on her feet like a cat, her body crouched in readiness. Above her, the trap door fell to the floor with a loud metallic clang. If Gabrielle’s abductor wasn’t aware of her presence before this, she would now.

There was no doubt in Xena’s mind that Najara had abducted Gabrielle. The zealot was a highly skilled fighter, and a formidable opponent in her own right. She had even defeated the warrior princess once before, which was quite a feat, though it could be argued that Xena had been otherwise preoccupied at the time—with ensuring Gabrielle’s safety. The warrior had also made the mistake of underestimating the zealot, a mistake she would not be repeating.

She was ready when a shadowy figure rushed at her, displaying neither finesse nor discipline, and Xena had a moment to wonder if she’d been mistaken. Maybe this wasn’t Najara after all. She easily side-stepped the initial rush and immediately pivoted to block the follow-up attack. Her attacker was fast, almost too fast. But Xena’s well-honed reflexes were more than up to the challenge. She blocked each attack handily as she retreated deeper into the basement, and nearer to the source of light that painted the walls with distorted shadows. This was a deliberate decision on her part.

Despite the haphazard frenzied attacks, she was fairly sure her attacker was Najara. Not the cool and calm Najara who once touted herself as a warrior of the light, but a fanatic caught in the throes of her zealotry. Still, there was room for doubt. Gabrielle had known she was coming, but she hadn’t heard a peep from her soulmate so far, which was concerning. If her attacker proved to be someone other than Najara, then Xena needed to extricate herself from this situation as soon as possible.

The face of her attacker appeared out of the shadowy darkness, and Xena felt a momentary sense of relief that it was indeed Najara. The zealot’s face was twisted up in a fanatical rage, but she otherwise appeared unchanged from the last time Xena had seen her.

The light also illuminated the warrior’s face, the sight of which enraged Najara further, and she increased the ferocity of her attacks. This was her chance to rid herself and Gabrielle of the bothersome warrior once and for all. If she succeeded in killing the warrior, she wouldn’t have to go through with her plan to kill the bard. Once Xena was dead, Gabrielle would be free, and they would finally be able to ride off into the sunset together.

When it became apparent that she wouldn’t be able to get through Xena’s defences, Najara hurled her dagger away with a snarl of frustration and lunged herself at the warrior. Xena might have been the stronger and taller of the two, but Najara’s fanatical zeal more than made up for any physical advantage the warrior might have had. The two women rolled around on the floor, grappling and striking as they fought for control.

Somehow, Najara gained the upper hand. She sat on Xena’s stomach, wrapped her hands around the warrior’s throat, and squeezed with every ounce of her strength. As the warrior’s face turned puce and victory appeared well within her grasp, Najara’s smile grew wider and wider, until she couldn’t hold it in any longer, and she started laughing maniacally. That was the opening Xena needed. She grabbed Najara’s wrists in both of her hands, planted her feet firmly on the floor, and bucked her hips violently, throwing the zealot off her completely.

The zealot quickly recovered, and the two women grappled again—briefly. This time, it was Xena who came out on top. She flipped Najara onto her stomach, pinned her legs down, and restrained her hands behind her. While the zealot struggled under her, Xena looked around the basement. It matched what she’d seen from her soulmate’s point of view, albeit from a different vantage point. But where she expected the bard to be, there was nothing, except a disturbance in the dust where someone roughly Gabrielle’s size had lain recently.

“Gabrielle? Gabrielle!” Xena called out.

The silence that greeted her was deafening. Xena used a length of rope to tie Najara up, picked up the lantern from the floor, and lifted it high. The light from the lantern lit up an assortment of junk piled haphazardly around the basement. But there was no sign of Gabrielle.

***

Gabrielle intended to call out to her soulmate the moment Najara’s back was turned, but she never got the chance. A harsh white light enveloped her before she could open her mouth, and she instinctively squeezed her eyes shut. When she next opened them, her surroundings had changed drastically. Instead of the dark, dusty basement, she was locked inside a uniformly white cell that was so clean she could eat right off the floor. The ropes that had once rendered her immobile were also gone, replaced by metal shackles around her wrists and ankles, and a metal collar around her neck. Thick metal chains connected the shackles to the neck collar, and the collar to a sturdy wall anchor at the back of the cell.

She gingerly shook out the cramps in her muscles and pushed herself into a standing position. The chains jangled noisily. They were heavy enough that it was an effort to stand up straight. If she held the chains up off the ground, she could shuffle around in them. However, the chain attached to the collar around her neck limited how far she could go. As it was, she could just about touch the bars of her cell. She peered through the bars, trying to get a sense of her new environment.

The corridor in front of her cell looked to be about two metres wide. It disappeared out of view to her right, framed by the same sterile white walls and floors that were in her cell. Gabrielle craned her neck, trying to see further, but it was more of the same. She was about to turn away when a figure appeared at the end of the corridor, clad in an all-black dress that fell all the way to her ankles. The woman looked to be about 6 feet tall, with stringy black hair that brushed the top of her shoulders as she walked. Her face was nondescript, and she appeared to be in her forties.

The woman didn’t look familiar. But there was something deeply disturbing about her piercing brown eyes, and the way she stopped and stared at the bard.

Gabrielle found herself unable to look away. A half-remembered sensation of being brutally throttled surfaced from the depths of her memory, and she unconsciously raised her hand to her neck. The woman lifted her right hand, revealing a chunky gold ring with a ruby inset on her middle finger. Gabrielle flinched at the sudden motion, and the woman cackled with glee.

“Your brain doesn’t remember me. But your soul does. I must have made quite an impression on you.” The woman thrust her face close to the bars, a knowing smirk on her face, and spat out, “Xena’s little bitch.”

Gabrielle stared at the woman, her brows furrowed, her brain trying desperately to comprehend the incomprehensible. Only one person had ever called her that. The tone, the inflection, and the cruel arrogance were almost identical. But the voice and the face didn’t match. Besides, the person she was thinking of was dead—killed by Xena. After which, they had defeated her twice more, the last shortly before their twenty-five-year hiatus, when they’d bound her soul with the sacred amber from the temple of Chia. She should be trapped in her grave still. It didn’t make sense that she would turn up now looking so different.

“It’s a pity I can’t feast on the fear I see in your eyes. Oh, to be able to put my hands on you, and give you a little reminder of all the good times we had. I can almost taste it… Your pain, your suffering, and, of course, your fear—all that sweet, delicious fear.” The woman licked her lips suggestively.

The look on the woman’s face sealed it for Gabrielle. As impossible as it seemed, she could not deny the truth any longer. She remembered that look. A shiver ran down her spine. Some of what she was feeling must have shown on her face because the woman’s smile grew broader, revealing a full set of uneven yellowish-white teeth.

“Go on, you can say my name,” the woman said.

“Alti,” Gabrielle spat the name out.

“That’ll do. Although I’ve had many names across many lifetimes. But you know that, don’t you. You were there when I was at the height of my powers. I had Xena’s soul within my grasp.” The woman clenched her fist, staring at it for a full moment as if reliving the memory in her mind. “I was so close. Instead, I’ve spent lifetime after lifetime being thwarted by her at every turn. Since she cheated, it’s only fair I do the same.”

The woman continued, “I would have loved to do to her what she did to me—cut her down in her prime. But it’s easier to kill her before she grew into her powers as the Destroyer of Nations.”

Gabrielle couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Then why are you here now?”

Alti, or Khindin, or whatever her name was, wagged a finger at the bard, like a parent reprimanding a wayward child. “Changing the past is tricky. Every change, no matter how small, has a ripple effect. There are only a few windows into the past where I can interfere without ripping the fabric of time apart. I only get one chance in each window. This is my last chance. Otherwise, I would force Xena to watch while I tortured you to an inch of your life. And I wouldn’t stop until she dropped to her knees and begged me for mercy. But only a fool would push her that far. I’m not a fool.”

“So, I’m the bait.”

“Oh, no. You’re more than bait—you’re her fatal flaw. I’ll be waiting for her when she comes for you. This time, her soul and her powers will be mine. And there won’t be anyone left to stop me from becoming the Destroyer of Nations!” The woman had a smug smirk on her face as she turned to leave.

Gabrielle didn’t bother watching the woman leave. She had bigger problems. Alti was right. Xena would come for her and walk straight into a trap. She had to warn her soulmate. Gabrielle tapped into her soul-link, but quickly realised that it wouldn’t be of any help here. Her soul-link was dead. Either Xena was out of range, or Alti had transported her into a different time or realm altogether. She sat down on the cool, white floor, cradled her head in her hands, and wondered if this was where their story was going to end.

***

Gabrielle was gone, just gone. What was worse, Xena couldn’t feel her soulmate on the end of their soul-link at all. After a thorough search of the basement turned up nothing, she confronted the only other person there. She grabbed the back of Najara’s tunic with both hands, lifted the zealot bodily off the floor, and gave her a good shake.

Najara yelled out in protest at being treated so roughly, “What do you want? You won! Isn’t that enough?”

Xena dumped the zealot onto the ground next to where her soulmate should have been and demanded, “Gabrielle, where is she?”

“I’m not playing your games. Kill me and get it over with,” Najara said, resigned to the fact that she had failed once again.

Xena grabbed the front of Najara’s tunic and pulled her close, until their faces were a hair’s breadth apart. Her eyes were like pieces of flint, and flecks of spittle accompanied her every word. “I’m not going to ask you again. Where is Gabrielle? What have you done to her?”

“Hurting her is your job, not mine,” Najara said, looking around for Gabrielle to back up her claim. It was only then she realised what the warrior had been trying to tell her all along. The bard wasn’t where Najara had left her. That didn’t make any sense. Gabrielle had been tied up, she couldn’t have physically gone anywhere. And why would she? When her precious Xena had come to rescue her? This had to be some kind of trick. “You’re messing with me. She was here when you barged in on us. You must have hidden her away.”

It seemed Najara was as much in the dark about what had happened to Gabrielle as she was, so Xena relaxed her death grip on the zealot’s tunic. She said, “She’s not here. If you don’t know where she is, someone must have taken her. Who took her?”

The zealot looked genuinely confused. “That wasn’t the plan…”

“Najara, who took her?”

“I was going to send her to the light…” Najara mumbled under her breath.

The zealot had used the phrase in the past to justify her killing. The idea that Najara would have been willing to kill Gabrielle, when she’d previously been so adamant against hurting the bard, was jarring. However, given the zealot’s chequered history, Xena shouldn’t have been surprised.

Najara had also used ‘the light’ to refer to her spiritual guides before. The warrior picked up on it immediately, and put two and two together. “The djinn? Where have they taken her?”

Najara just shook her head.

“You need to focus here. Gabrielle is missing. She’s in danger. Help me find her.”

“I don’t know…” Najara appeared to go blank for a moment, before refocusing. She looked at Xena, and said tentatively, “Their home?”

“How do I get there?” Xena asked.

“I don’t know,” Najara repeated.

“Ask the djinn.”

“They’re not with me now…” Najara trailed off mid-sentence. Her eyes became unfocused, then they suddenly rolled back into her head, and she fell forward to the floor in a dead slump. She appeared to be unconscious. Her breathing was shallow, and her pulse thready. She was alive, but barely. It was unclear what had brought on the sudden collapse, but Xena knew she had to get Najara to a healing temple soon, or the zealot wasn’t likely to survive the day.

The warrior untied Najara, hoisted her over one shoulder, then climbed the ladder back up to the ground floor. When she emerged from the basement, the man who had shown her the way was gone. Xena was glad she didn’t have to waste time explaining herself. She repositioned the dead weight over her shoulder, stepped out into the streets, and made for the northwest quadrant of the city, where there was an Asclepieion, a healing temple dedicated to Asclepius.

Her unusual cargo drew gasps, and exclamations of alarm. People stared after her, their eyes wide, their lips pressed together in disapproval. But no one stopped her. They were afraid of what the six-foot-tall warrior woman with the murderous look on her face would do to them if they intervened. Xena ignored them all. She had more pressing matters on her mind. She needed to find Gabrielle. At the very least, she needed to get to wherever the djinn had taken her soulmate. She didn’t know much about the djinn, other than what little she had gleaned from Najara through their interactions over the years. She certainly didn’t know where they lived. Without her soul-link to show her the way, finding Gabrielle would be much harder—if not nigh impossible.

All hope was not lost though. The warrior could think of a few viable options off the top of her head. The first, was to approach Aphrodite for help. The Greek goddess of love had always been fond of the bard, and could be counted on to offer whatever assistance necessary to ensure Gabrielle was brought back safe and sound. It was unclear however, if Aphrodite’s powers extended that far. The goddess was also flighty, and more likely to cause more chaos with her whimsical fancies than to be of any practical help.

The second was Eli. He wasn’t a god, at least not in the conventional sense, but he was widely considered to be the avatar of one. His powers were comparable to the Olympians, though he wasn’t as limited in terms of geography as they were, thanks to the proliferation of his message of love throughout much of the known world. However, unlike Aphrodite, who had a temple here in Byzantium, finding a temple to Eli was more difficult. The nearest temple Xena knew of was a long way away, so unless she was able to find an alternative method to get Eli’s attention, this option was a non-starter.

The third option, and the one Xena believed to be her best bet, was the dream passage. Decades ago, she’d used the dream passage to rescue Gabrielle from an evil cult, in circumstances roughly similar to the one she was currently in. The evil cult had taken the young woman to a fortress hidden in the mountains. Xena was told it would take her days, if not months, to fight her way through the fortress to reach Gabrielle, time she didn’t have. Elkton, an ousted member of the cult, had offered the warrior an alternative—the dream passage.

The dream passage ran through the dreamscape, making it possible to travel from one location to another by completely bypassing the physical world. It hadn’t mattered how heavily defended the fort was, or that she hadn’t known where it was located. The dream passage had rendered all those obstacles moot. It wasn’t without its dangers though. Xena almost didn’t make it out alive in that first attempt. But she was more than willing to assume the risk, especially if the dream passage could take her straight to Gabrielle.

She wouldn’t be able to gain access to the dream passage on her own, however. She needed a priest of Morpheus, which was easier said than done, considering there were no temples or shrines dedicated to the god of dreams—even in a city as big as Byzantium. Moreover, Morpheus didn’t have any priests of his own. But there was the Asclepieion, where incubationes were performed on a semiregular basis.

An incubatio was a ritual, where petitioners would fall asleep within a sacred place to receive divine dreams in hopes of a cure for whatever ailed them. That was a failsafe way to get into the dreamscape. And since dreams played a major role in the ritual, Morpheus’ name was bound to be invoked at the start. That would give Xena a chance to convince the god of dreams to send her into the dream passage.

***

The Asclepieion was a majestic building more than twice the size of the other temples. The universal symbol of Asclepius, a snake curled around a rod, featured prominently on the temple’s façade, making it easily recognisable from a distance. At the main doors, initiates into the healing arts greeted patients and petitioners alike, enquiring the purpose of their visit before guiding them through into the temple proper.

Xena stepped up to the entrance, and was quickly met by a sinewy young man with an unruly head of dark brown curls. He greeted the warrior with a smile but got straight to the point.

“What’s wrong with her?” The young man asked, pointing to Najara.

“I found her unconscious on the streets.”

The young man took Xena’s words at face value. He led her into a room just inside the temple doors that had been set up to triage emergency cases, and directed the warrior to place Najara on an empty pallet. A group of healers swarmed past them and immediately went to work, prodding and prying as they tried to figure out what was wrong with the zealot.

“Thank you for bringing her here. We’ll take care of her.”

The young man tried to steer Xena back towards the temple doors, but she stopped him. “I’m here for an incubatio.”

“An incubatio?” the young man asked, unsure if he had somehow misheard. He studied the warrior woman intently. She looked to be the picture of health. There was no way she needed treatment of any kind, much less an incubatio. However, he couldn’t in good conscience turn her away when she had need of the Asclepieion’s services.

“The incubatio?” Xena pressed.

“Yes… It’s this way.”

The young man left the warrior with a priest of Asclepius, who explained that she would need to go through a purification process, and offer up a sacrifice before she would be allowed to enter the sanctuary where the incubatio would take place.

“I don’t have time for that,” Xena said, interrupting the priest before he could further detail the baths, and the multi-day fasting that made up the purification process. “Just give me the opium drink for the incubatio.”

“That is sacrilegious!” the priest exclaimed. “The incubatio is a sacred ritual. Every step must be followed religiously, or you will incur the wrath of the gods.”

Xena wasn’t too worried. She’d been on the receiving end of the Olympians’ wrath before, and she’d lived to tell the tale. “You have a choice here. Either you help me, or I’ll help myself.”

The priest crossed his arms in front of his chest defiantly. “I’ll do no such thing.”

“Then I’ll do it myself,” Xena said.

She pushed past the priest into the sanctuary, ignoring his protests and shouts for help. She didn’t have to look far. The only furniture in the sanctuary was a large table pushed up against the far wall. On this table were five stoppered bottles, similar in shape and size to the one Elkton had given her to drink decades ago. She picked one of the bottles up and sniffed cautiously around the stopper. The smell was unmistakeable—it was opium.

By now, guards had arrived at the sanctuary, and were busy conferring with the priest at the entrance. Xena knew it was only a matter of time before they tried to remove her from the premises. She gave the bottle a good swirl, popped the stopper off with her thumb, and downed the contents in one swift swallow. Then she laid herself down on the floor and waited for the drug to take effect.

When the guards reached her, the warrior was fast asleep. They milled around her unconscious form like lost sheep, unsure of what to do next, when the priest pushed them aside to see what was going on.

One of the guards asked, “Do you want us to throw her out onto the streets?”

The priest noticed the discarded bottle at Xena’s side and quickly deduced what had happened. The opium drink given to the participants of the incubatio was a potent concoction that could render a person unconscious for many hours. Attempting to rouse someone before the effects of the drug wore off was dangerous, and could leave their minds and souls trapped forever in the dreamscape. They might never regain consciousness, or be forced to live out the rest of their lives in an asylum as a shell of the person they’d once been.

“Of course not. We’re a temple of Asclepius. We have a duty to do no harm,” the priest said. “I’ll watch over her until she wakes, then we’ll decide what to do with her. Now, all of you need to leave.”

Once the guards were gone, the priest raised his hands in prayer, invoking the names of Asclepius, Hygeia, Panacea, and Morpheus, beseeching them to guide the irreverent warrior woman through the dreamscape safely.

***

It was said that Morpheus lived in the land of dreams, the entrance to which was hidden within one of the dark crevices of the underworld, and that he spent most of his time sleeping in a cave filled with poppy seeds. Xena didn’t know how much of it was true, though she was indeed in a cave. But instead of poppy seeds, it was filled with hundreds of poppy flowers, the kind from which opium could be extracted. They were present in a variety of colours, from red, to white, to various shades of pink and purple, and arranged in no discernible pattern or design that she could see. In the midst of the flowers, was a kline made out of ebony, its deep black colour in stark contrast to the paleness of the masculine figure reclining upon it.

The first thing that jumped out at Xena, were the wings—big, white, feathery, angel wings—sprouting from the figure’s upper back, right where the shoulder blades would be. The second, perhaps just as shocking, was the utter lack of clothing. The figure made no attempt at modesty either, leaving every part of his well-toned physique and his genitalia on full display.

Anyone else would have taken this blatant display of nudity as a personal affront, but Xena was unfazed. She’d seen plenty of naked men before, though he certainly was one of the more well-proportioned men she’d seen. If this was indeed Morpheus, which Xena was inclined to believe, then It was only to be expected. After all, there was a reason the Greek gods were the standard by which most men measured themselves. And it wasn’t because of their beauty, though it could be argued that most of the Greek gods were fairly easy on the eyes.

The Greek god lay on his side, his head supported on the loosely clenched fist of his left hand, his eyes closed. He appeared to be asleep. Xena didn’t believe the act for one second. She hadn’t stumbled into Morpheus’ bedroom by accident. He had clearly summoned her. The whole thing felt strangely performative, so much so that Xena had to wonder what the Greek god was trying to hide. Whatever those secrets were, Morpheus could keep them. She was here for one reason, and one reason only. If the Greek god was expecting her to observe protocol, he had another think coming.

“Morpheus.” When the god of dreams showed no sign of having heard her, Xena repeated herself, this time louder, “Morpheus.”

The Greek god slowly opened his eyes, then turned to look at the warrior. His every movement was languid and unhurried, almost as if he’d indulged in a little too much of the by-products of his own poppy plants. Even his speech was the same way, with long pauses in between. “Xena… Are you here… to kill me?”

“You know I no longer have the power to kill gods.”

Morpheus regarded the warrior curiously. “Do… I?”

“Once I enter the dreamscape, you know everything I know,” Xena pointed out.

“You shouldn’t… believe… everything… you hear,” Morpheus said.

Considering that the information had come directly from Elkton, the Mystic High Priest of the cult of Morpheus, Xena doubted it was merely a rumour, as the Greek god seemed to be suggesting, but she held her peace.

“Why… are you… here?”

“I need to travel the dream passage,” Xena replied.

“The… dream… passage? Why?”

“Someone has taken my partner. I need the dream passage to get to her.”

“Why… should I… help you?”

This short exchange had taken about as long as a full conversation, what with the long, drawn-out words and the exaggerated pauses. By this time, Xena’s patience had worn thin, and she was done playing along. “Look Morpheus, I don’t know what you’re playing at. But I don’t have time for games. Gabrielle’s in danger.”

“And so, the charade ends.” Morpheus said with a tinge of regret. He leapt up into the air, his wings flapping gracefully behind him with a soft ‘fwap fwap’ as he came to hover before the warrior. “What gave me away?”

“Alcohol, and drugs don’t work on the gods,” Xena said.

Morpheus nodded sagely. “You would know, wouldn’t you? Given your—‘closeness’ to a certain god of war. Tell me, why should I help you?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Come now, Xena. You know that’s not how it works. When you ask the gods for a favour, you need to provide a suitable sacrifice.”

“I’m not asking for a favour, Morpheus, I’m calling in a debt.”

The Greek god appeared to mull this over. “Are you suggesting I owe you one?”

“Remember the Mystics? You used me to put Manus back in his place and reinstate Elkton to his old position as head priest,” Xena reminded the Greek god.

Morpheus waved his hand dismissively. “I played no part in that.”

“So, it was just coincidence they took Gabrielle?”

“Everyone knew to stay away. Your friend was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Coincidence that I bumped into Elkton at the store.”

Morpheus didn’t bother dignifying that question with an answer.

Undeterred, Xena pressed on. “Coincidence that Elkton had a dream vision about me.”

“I wouldn’t say the dream vision was about you,” Morpheus hedged.

“A warrior who could travel the dream passage? A woman with a dark past—strong and brave? And Elkton just happened to have enough N’kama oil to get me to Gabrielle? That’s a lot of coincidences,” Xena pointed out.

“You got your friend back, didn’t you?”

“No thanks to you,” Xena said.

“You think your friend would have known how to handle the challenges, or buy time for you to get to her if I hadn’t arranged for the two of you to meet in the dream passage?”

At the time, Xena had thought it was another trick to slow her down. But on hindsight, it made sense that the god of dreams had arranged the meeting. Obviously, it wasn’t out of any consideration for Gabrielle or her. “You needed to keep her alive, so I wouldn’t wipe out your little cult.”

“That too. But you wouldn’t have succeeded without my help. I would say it was a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Xena shook her head. “That’s not the way I see it. You had your mystics take Gabrielle, so I would take care of Manus for you. If they hadn’t taken her, she wouldn’t have been in danger, and we would not have needed your help. So yes, you owe us.”

“I owe you nothing,” Morpheus said. “But neither will I stand in your way. If you wish to travel the dream passage, you may. However, you need to understand the risks before you decide if you want to proceed. As you well know, the dream passage is a dangerous place. Few people emerge from it unscathed. You did it once. It doesn’t mean you’ll do it again.”

Xena didn’t hesitate. “I’ll take the risk.”

“You would,” Morpheus agreed. “Since there are two lives at stake here—your partner’s and the child she carries.”

Xena glared at the Greek god but didn’t otherwise respond.

“Don’t blame me, Xena. You knew when you entered my domain that I would know about the child you have with your partner. But you need not worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Then you know why I have to do it,” Xena said.

Morpheus did know. He continued where he’d left off, “The journey will be long and difficult. There’s no N’kama oil here. Even if there is, it will not buy you enough time to get to your partner.”

The warrior made to protest, but Morpheus cut her short. “When your soul enters the dream passage, your body starts to lose the fluids that sustain it. The only way you’ll be able to make this journey, is if both your body and your soul enter the dream passage together.”

The god of dreams folded his wings, and landed in front of the warrior. “You will face your past demons and your fears. That is the price of using the dream passage. But know this—when your body enters the dreamscape, everything that happens within it becomes reality. If you are injured, you will bear those injuries even when you return to the outside world. But if you are killed, there’s no going back. You’ll be trapped in the dreamscape forever, relegated to a mere dream.”

“I accept,” Xena said.

“It seems you’ll not be dissuaded. In that case, you should know one final thing,” Morpheus said.

“What’s that?” Xena asked.

“The dream passage will take you to your partner. But it only works one way.”

“Just send me there,” Xena told him. “I’ll worry about finding a way back when the time comes.”

“So be it. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Xena’s reply was immediate. “I’m ready.”

“Off you go then.” Morpheus waved his hand, as if lazily swatting away an annoying fly. The warrior disappeared, leaving him alone in his cave once more.

Back in Byzantium, the priest of Asclepius turned around to find himself completely alone in the sanctuary. The warrior woman, who had still been unconscious when he’d checked on her moments ago, was nowhere to be seen. Convinced that he must have angered the gods by allowing the trespasser into their sanctuary, he dropped to his knees and started begging for mercy.

Morpheus tuned out the priest’s pleas, and turned his thoughts back to the warrior and her quest. He had achieved his title as god of dreams through his ability to replicate any human form perfectly, down to their voice, the words they used, and their mannerisms. He was also able to portray human emotions convincingly. But it was all an act. Like the rest of the Greek gods, Morpheus was incapable of feeling true human emotions. This allowed him to remain neutral and impartial when carrying out his duties as the god of dreams.

However, Morpheus understood what it meant to be fiercely loyal and protective towards his own family. He recognised those same qualities in Xena and respected her desire to protect her partner and child. For that reason alone, he was willing to send her into the dream passage. But he drew the line at helping her any further than that. If she was worthy, she would survive the journey. If she wasn’t, then it wasn’t his place to interfere.

Morpheus leapt into the air and flew the short distance back to his kline, where he resumed the position he’d been in when the warrior had so rudely interrupted him. He closed his eyes and promptly fell back asleep.

***

The dream passage was markedly different from what Xena remembered of it. Thirty-two years ago, it had been more like a marathon nightmare, where despite her best efforts to navigate the dream passage in a purposeful and orderly manner, she’d ended up stumbling blindly from one nightmare to another.

At the time, the warrior had just started her travels with Gabrielle, and was embarking on her own journey towards redemption. Her mind was understandably chocked full of doubts. Her bloody and violent past weighed heavily on her. Every night, her sleep was plagued by nightmares; and every day, she struggled to contain the darkness within her. It was no surprise then, that the dream passage had used those same nightmares, and her own personal demons, against her. When she’d come up against the final hurdle, her dark side, Xena had been forced to take a long hard look at herself; to recognise and acknowledge that she would never be free of what she had done, or who she had been; and that she could not truly move on until she accepted that reality.

That experience, and the epiphany that followed, did not have an immediate effect on Xena’s psyche or her life, nor did it put a stop to her nightmares. But it was a step in the right direction. And that step had brought her to where she was now, more than thirty years later. To say that her life had changed, would be an understatement.

Her past was well and truly behind her now. There was no unfinished business or loose ends left to tie up. She had Gabrielle, the love of her life, and they were engaged to be married; she had another chance at being a mother, and she was looking forward to being there to watch her child grow up; she had even found her way—the way of the warrior, and her path of redemption was finally complete. Until her soulmate had been abducted, Xena would say that she was well and truly content, possibly for the first time in her life.

Perhaps that was the reason the dream passage appeared so different this time around. A long straight tunnel stretched interminably before her, its depths dark and unfathomable. As she walked through the tunnel, she did not encounter any twists or turns, or mind-boggling mazes to confound her or possibly trip her up. But Xena knew looks could be deceiving. She had no doubt her journey through the dream passage would be anything but straightforward.

Morpheus had made it very clear. It would be dangerous, maybe even mortally so. Not that Xena needed the reminder. She would treat the dream passage the same way she did with everything else. It was the way she had always operated. After all, one can never be too careful. Besides, this wasn’t a race to the finish line. She was stuck in the dream passage until she found the exit door, and she wouldn’t find the exit door until she successfully overcame the trials that awaited her.

Speaking of trials, Xena wondered what demons or fears she would be forced to confront this time. She doubted it would be a rehash of the last, since she hadn’t had a nightmare in a long time. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she noticed tendrils of what appeared to be fog creeping into the tunnel. Before she knew it, the fog had grown so thick that it was impossible to see beyond the reach of her hand. Xena stopped in her tracks, turning slowly in place, her senses on high alert. She rested her right hand casually on the chakram hanging on her belt, ready to whip it out at a moment’s notice.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then without warning, the fog started to clear, and a shadowy figure emerged from the retreating fog. When the figure was fully revealed, it was like looking into a mirror. Xena was staring at her doppelgänger, possibly even the same one she’d encountered during her first trip through the dream passage.

“You look surprised to see me,” the doppelgänger said in lieu of a greeting. “Thought you’d left me behind, didn’t you? Buried, like your past?”

It was obvious her doppelgänger was trying to goad her, but Xena didn’t take the bait. “What do you want?”

“You’re weak without me, Xena. You try to make up for it by controlling everything. But that’s not possible, is it? That recent scare you had must have shaken you to the core, knowing that you had no control over your destiny. Well, I thought I’d drop by and let you in on a secret.” The doppelgänger leaned in close, whispering directly into Xena’s ear, “I’m the one in control here, not you. This time, you won’t have control over anything. I will. Does that make you quake in your boots? Knowing you’re completely at my mercy?”

The recent scare her doppelgänger was referring to, was the time Xena had merged her soul with Gabrielle’s. It was during a fight, between the bard and the foreign dragon who’d been oppressing the oriental dragon clans for years. Gabrielle’s life, and the fate of the oriental dragons, had been on the line. Xena, watching from the sidelines, had made the only decision she could.

She thought she’d been prepared for what would happen. But she’d still been caught by surprise when her soul started unravelling the moment the fight was over. It was like she was being eaten alive by a million tiny ants, one bite at a time, except sped up about a hundred times. And she’d been utterly helpless to do anything about it. The only thing she could do, was wait—wait for the inevitable end. For someone who’d fought and clawed her way through every moment of every day; who’d refused to lie down and let anyone, or anything run roughshod over her, that experience had been humbling and deeply traumatising.

But it hadn’t been all bad. Xena had learned something from the experience as well, something that made the idea of not being in control less of a threat than her doppelgänger believed it to be. She calmly looked at her doppelgänger and said, “Is that all? Then let me through.”

The doppelgänger had indeed been trying to rile Xena up, to stir up the embers of a flame that had once burned so brightly within the one-time warlord. But given the warrior’s response, it clearly wasn’t working, so the doppelgänger pivoted to a strategy that had worked previously. “You’ll have to defeat me if you want to get past me. But just in case you forgot, let me remind you—I’m the reason you are who you are today. You couldn’t defeat me the last time. And you won’t this time. I’m stronger than you. I’ve always been stronger than you.”

Her doppelgänger drew her sword, holding it in front of her with both hands. It was an invitation, if ever there was one, for Xena to draw her own. But she wasn’t interested in fighting herself. “We’ve been through this before. I admitted it then, and I’ll admit it now. I wouldn’t exist without you. You’re right. I can’t defeat you. So, why don’t you go ahead and kill me? We both know you want to. Look, I’ll even make it easier for you.”

Xena raised her arms out to her side in the universal sign of surrender. “G’wan.”

“Pick up your sword, damn you!” the doppelgänger growled.

“What’s the matter?” Xena asked. “Can’t kill an unarmed person? It didn’t stop you before.”

The doppelgänger jabbed her sword towards Xena in a threatening manner, and shouted, “Fight me like a warrior!”

“Either run me through right now, or get out of my way,” Xena said. When her doppelgänger didn’t budge, she started walking forward, her arms still out wide. Even when the tip of the sword scraped against her breastplate, she didn’t stop. She wasn’t going to back down in this game of chicken. Not surprisingly, it was her doppelgänger who did.

The doppelgänger gave up ground, one step at a time, either unwilling or unable to take the warrior’s life. Finally, she admitted defeat and sheathed her sword with a growl of frustration. “Don’t think you’ve won. I’ll be back. And you won’t get off so easy the next time.”

Thick heavy fog enveloped them. When it finally cleared, Xena was alone.

***

On the surface, Xena’s interaction with her doppelgänger might have seemed foolish, even reckless. But the warrior had learned a lot about herself in the years since their last meeting, and she now saw her old self in a much different light. She believed she understood the motivations of her doppelgänger, which would be the key to getting out of the dream passage once the exit door appeared.

Unfortunately, none of that gave her any insight into what her doppelgänger would do next. Xena needed to stay on her toes and be ready for anything. More importantly, she needed to get through the dream passage without resorting to violence, even as a last resort. She believed it was the only way she would get out of the dream passage alive. That was her number one priority. The second, obviously, was rescuing her soulmate.

The appearance of Najara had caught Xena by surprise. The last time she’d checked, the zealot had still been in a comatose state and not expected to regain consciousness. And yet, Najara had turned up in Byzantium, having not only made a full recovery, but also escaped from the watchful eyes of the sisters at the asylum.

The zealot was infatuated with the bard, to the point of obsession, and there had been a time when Xena genuinely believed the zealot would never hurt her soulmate. But Najara’s obsession seemed to have evolved into something darker over the decades, to the point where she would now go to any lengths to be with Gabrielle, including abduction, and even cold-blooded murder.

Xena never thought she would see the day when Najara would actually consider killing Gabrielle, much less go through with it. She wondered if that could be the reason the djinn had intervened and taken her soulmate away. Maybe they were trying to save her from Najara. But if that were the case, they should have sent her back once the threat had been neutralised.

There was, of course, the possibility that Gabrielle didn’t need rescuing at all. Maybe the bard was being wined and dined by the djinn in their home, and they were simply having such a good time that the young woman had yet to return. Maybe Xena was putting the cart before the oxen here, but her gut told her that her soulmate was in danger. Which meant the djinn had more nefarious reasons for taking Gabrielle. What that reason could be, Xena didn’t know, but she planned to find out.

The warrior didn’t know where Gabrielle was being held or if the djinn had truly taken her soulmate. That meant she would have to go in blind and make things up as she went along. That, more than devising detailed strategies and plans, was what the warrior truly excelled at. Her ability to improvise and come up with solutions on the fly was second to none. It made her unpredictable, which was a good thing. But it had also landed both Gabrielle and her in some hairy situations. And started a few running arguments, most notably the one where she’d used their only frying pan to knock out a bad guy and drawn Gabrielle’s ire in return. The memory brought a smile to Xena’s face, but it wouldn’t last long.

Thick dark fog rose from the ground, like will-o’-the-wisps from the swamps, obscuring everything around the warrior. Once again, a shadowy figure emerged from out of the fog. And once again, it was her doppelgänger.

“Told you I’d be back.” The doppelgänger stopped short, her eyes narrowing in displeasure as she noticed the smile on Xena’s face. “Don’t look so smug. You take everything you have for granted—everything I’ve given you. I think it’s time you found out what it feels like to be nothing. Because that’s what you are, Xena—nothing—without me.” The doppelgänger stretched her right hand out towards the warrior, freezing Xena in place.

There was nothing Xena could do, as she felt her strength and her power leave her. When her doppelgänger finally released her, there was no longer anything holding her up, and she would have fallen to her knees. It took every ounce of willpower to stay standing, but Xena didn’t want to give her doppelgänger the satisfaction. She felt like a baby deer fresh out of the womb, weak, woozy and unsteady on her feet.

For a brief moment, she thought she might actually pass out. But it soon passed, and she started feeling more like herself—albeit a significantly diminished version. Xena rarely fell sick, and she couldn’t remember what that felt like. But she did remember the time she’d been hit by a dart coated in Talmic poison. Her legs had been the first to go, then her arms. This wasn’t that. She still had control of her limbs. They just responded slower than she was used to. And she could hardly muster the strength to ball her hand into a fist, much less wield it like the deadly weapon it had once been.

So, this is what it’s like to be old, Xena thought to herself. She didn’t like it, but neither did she fight it. Not that she could have. As her doppelgänger had so helpfully pointed out earlier, she wasn’t in control here. There was, however, something her doppelgänger couldn’t take away from her. That was her mind. As long as she retained her clarity of thought, Xena was confident she could handle anything the dreamscape or her doppelgänger threw at her.

“Looks like we have company,” the doppelgänger said gleefully, knowing full well that the warrior could neither hear nor sense the army of people marching towards them. “I think I recognise some of them. Oh, wait. Aren’t those the people you killed? They don’t look like they’re here to reminisce about the good old days.”

Even with her senses dulled, Xena could see the huge mass of people heading her way. They appeared to be armed. If these were indeed the vengeful spirits of those who had lost their lives because of her, then there would be too many to fight off—not that she was capable of wielding a weapon at this time. She wasn’t going to be able to outrun them either.

“If you want to find the exit door, you’ll need to get past them. Without me, you don’t stand a chance. But you already know that, don’t you?” The doppelgänger reached into her cleavage, pulled out a shiny object from within, and offered it to the warrior. “If you put this on, you might have a chance.”

Xena recognised the object. It was the Rheingold ring she’d forged thirty-six years ago, when the only thing she’d care about was possessing the ultimate power. That was what the ring gave her—the power of a god. But the ring was also cursed. For those who had not forsaken love, the ring would destroy what they valued most. When she’d forged the ring, love meant nothing to her; she thought she could live without love. Now, she knew differently.

“You know I can’t use this,” Xena said.

“Take it,” the doppelgänger urged, pressing the ring into the warrior’s hand. “The ring works for everyone at first. Use it or don’t. The choice is yours. But if you don’t, you need to ask yourself, what happens to Gabrielle?”

Xena knew the choice her doppelgänger was forcing her to make. If she put on the ring, she would not only lose her sense of self, but her memories of Gabrielle as well. But if she didn’t put on the ring, she would die here in the dreamscape, and there would be no one to save her pregnant soulmate.

“Think about it. But don’t take too long. You’re on your own here,” the doppelgänger reminded the warrior before disappearing in a swirl of fog.

***

Xena looked up at the fast-approaching mob actively baying for her blood, then back down at the ring in her hand. She knew the choice she had to make. It was the one her doppelgänger wanted her to. That alone, was enough to give her pause.

A year ago, she had personally returned the Rheingold to the Rhein Maidens, while Gabrielle watched from afar like a proud mother. The ring no longer existed. Obviously, that meant nothing here in the dreamscape. Xena didn’t doubt this was the ring she’d forged, and that it would grant her godlike powers if she decided to put it on. But she also knew how that story had ended.

And yet, here she was, in circumstances similar to the one in which she’d had no choice but to put the ring on, knowing full well she had not forsaken love. This couldn’t be a coincidence. It was a deliberate attempt by her doppelgänger to manipulate her. Xena believed she knew why. And it would also explain why her doppelgänger hadn’t tried to kill her earlier—her doppelgänger wanted to take her place out in the real world.

One of the first things her doppelgänger had said to her more than thirty years ago, when they’d first met in the dream passage, had been ‘join me’. Xena hadn’t paid it any attention at the time. She’d been too focused on killing her old self. But now it all made sense.

If she put the ring on, she would become a blank slate, thus allowing her doppelgänger to step in and take over her life completely. Without her ‘good’ side to act as a counterbalance, it would only be a matter of time before her doppelgänger fell back into their old ways. Xena couldn’t let that happen—not to the world, not to Gabrielle, and definitely not to their child. But that didn’t mean she was willing to die here.

Fortunately, she wasn’t completely out of options. She’d once given her soulmate four rules of survival. The rules had been specifically tailored for the bard. The fourth rule, especially, played to her soulmate’s strength—her gift of the gab. Xena didn’t have the same way with words Gabrielle had, but she figured she might still be able to talk her way out—maybe. She drew herself up to her full height, slipped the ring in between her breasts for safekeeping, and waited for the armed mob to come within earshot.

“There she is!”

“Xena! Murderer!”

“It’s time you paid for your crimes!”

“For my family—my friends—my beloved wife—my innocent babies!”

The mob punched their makeshift weapons raggedly into the air; their voices raised in anger. They didn’t look like they were interested in engaging the warrior in conversation, much less hear her out.

Still, Xena had to give it a try. She spread her arms wide in a placating manner. “Please. Listen to me.” Her words were quickly drowned out by the angry cries. She tried again, this time shouting to make herself heard. “Listen to me! Please!”

Surprisingly, the angry cries stopped. As did the mob. Perhaps it was because Xena had used the magic word, ‘please’. They hefted the weapons in their hands, glancing at each other uncertainly. They were a motley crew. The majority were men, though there were also women and even a few centaurs scattered in the mix. All of them looked worse for the wear, since they still bore the wounds they had sustained when they’d been alive. Some were missing fingers, or limbs. Others had their innards dragging along on the ground behind them. Xena recognised some of them—the ones she’d personally killed. Many of them had deserved it. But there were many more whom she did not recognise. Those were the ones who had been collateral damage, the ones who had no names, the ones who didn’t deserve to have their lives brutally cut short. Xena’s heart ached at the sheer number who fell into that category.

A man shoved his way to the front of the mob, his throat had been cut, but he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear him. “Why should we listen to you?”

“That’s right! We don’t have to listen to you!” the mob chimed in almost immediately.

Xena had no difficulty recognising the man who had spoken. You never forgot your first. It was one of the men who’d raided her village when she’d been young and innocent. What happened that day would change her life forever, and set her down a path of death and destruction. “Why are you here, Termin? You are no innocent. You came to my village to kill and to plunder. My friends died at your hands.”

That got the mob’s attention. They took a collective step back and started furiously talking amongst themselves.

“I’m not the only one who isn’t innocent here, Xena. All these people lost their lives because of you. I’m here for revenge, same as the rest of them,” Termin replied.

“You’re just as bad as she is!” someone shouted. There were murmured assents. This was followed by pushing and shoving, as those who had blood on their hands took issue with the innocent who were trying to paint them as villains.

Xena quickly took stock of the situation. There were hardened warriors, criminals, and even cold-blooded murderers mixed in amongst the innocent. If she didn’t de-escalate matters soon, things could spiral rapidly out of control and a bloodbath would ensue. That was the last thing she wanted. “There has been enough bloodshed. No one needs to die today. Many of you didn’t deserve to have your life taken from you. For that, I want to say I’m sorry. I take full responsibility for my actions, and the actions of the men and women who served under me. I know an apology doesn’t come close to making up for what you have suffered. But I hope you’ll choose to forgive me.”

“Not for my sake,” Xena clarified. “Because I’ll live with the guilt of your deaths until my dying day. But for yourself. Your hatred for me keeps you here, forcing you to relive your final moment of pain and loss over and over again. You can’t move on until you forgive me. A wise person once told me—the cycle of hate has to end. And the only way to end it is through love. Remember the people you love. Do it for them. Set yourself free. The Elysian Fields are waiting. And your loved ones are waiting for you.”

“Spare us the bullshit, Xena. You don’t get to walk free just because you say so. You took our lives. It’s only fair we take yours,” a man shouted from within the mob.

Xena couldn’t see the speaker, and she didn’t recognise the voice, but it gave her the opportunity to explain to the mob what it meant to lose their blood innocence. “Everything changes the moment you kill. Once you cross that line, there’s no going back. It stains your soul—permanently. You’ll relive that moment for the rest of your life. Your dreams will be filled with blood. And you will bear that burden and that guilt until the day you die—just like I do.”

“No one’s going to feel sorry for you, Xena. C’mon boys, let’s get her!”

“Hear, hear!”

From where Xena stood, it appeared that her speech had fallen on deaf ears. But the reality was very different. If she’d retained her superior sense of sight and hearing, she would have noticed that the majority of the mob hadn’t joined in the chants for her death. Some seemed genuinely conflicted, but there were many more who looked like they were just waiting for someone to give them permission to walk away.

So, when an elderly man with a gaping hole in his chest threw his pitchfork onto the ground in disgust and turned to walk away, the floodgates opened. Within a few minutes, the innocent were leaving in droves, their weapons abandoned on the ground. As they walked further and further away, their steps became lighter, and their wounds began knitting back together. Once they were whole again, they disappeared in a shimmer of light.

Seeing the mass desertion, Termin spat contemptuously to the side. “Bah! Sheep! They’re only good for cannon fodder. Who needs them?” He took a quick count of those who remained, then turned back to the warrior with a nasty smile on his face. “There’s still more than enough of us here to take you down, Xena. Guess all your talk was for nothing.”

Not everyone felt the same. A grizzled Roman war veteran stepped up to the front. His battered helmet had the distinctive blood-red transverse crest of a centurion mounted on top. “This is not our fight,” he said.

His legion had been one of those sent to Britannia under Caesar’s command to fight against Boadicea. The war had been going well, until Xena had entered the picture. His men had fought valiantly, but the crafty warrior princess had outwitted and outsmarted them at every turn. They had given their all for Rome. They had done their duty. There was no shame in that.

He raised his voice, addressing the Roman soldiers within the mob. “The war’s over, lads. Our job’s done. Our family and friends are waiting for us. It’s time we went home.” He turned to Xena. “You beat us on the field fair and square. We have no quarrel with you.”

The Roman centurion exchanged a nod with Xena, then led his men in a quick march back the way they had come. As they went, more warriors and soldiers joined the exodus, eager to leave the war and the fighting behind. Like the innocent who had gone before them, they too disappeared in a shimmer of light, leaving behind a small group of hardened killers.

***

The mob that had once numbered in the thousands, was now down to a couple hundred. But that was still a couple hundred too many. These were men who knew their way around weapons, who had made a life killing and pillaging, and whose propensity for violence had gotten them killed. In Xena’s current weakened state, she was no match for any of them. She needed to go on the offensive and hope they didn’t call her bluff.

The warrior princess openly smirked at Termin. “I defeated the vanguard of the Persian army. You think you stand a chance against me?”

Few people knew the truth about what happened the day Xena supposedly took on the Persian army and defeated them. Some amongst the mob had been there to witness the advance of the Persian army themselves. Some had watched the Persians flee back to their ships as if Cerberus, the three-headed hound that guarded the gates of the Underworld, was chasing them. Most, however, had only heard the stories and the rumours.

Immediately, the mob started whispering amongst themselves.

“It’s true. You saw the Persians. There were five hundred of them.”

“I heard there were eight hundred.”

“She took them on all by herself? I thought she had help.”

“The Persians say she fought like a thousand men.”

“I bet they say that just to save face. She must have caught them on an off day.”

“Does it matter? We all know what she’s capable of. Ten men, a hundred men, or a thousand men. It is all the same to her.”

Termin had heard enough. He, too, knew what the warrior princess was capable of. And while he wasn’t too optimistic about their chances given how few their numbers were, they weren’t going to have a chance in Tartarus if they lost any more men. “Don’t let her get to you, boys. It’s a trick. She’s trying to scare us. Are we men, or are we chickens?”

“Don’t you dare call me a coward. You were still suckling on your mama’s tits when I got my first kill. I don’t have to explain myself to the likes of you,” said a thickset man wearing a captain’s hat and a patch over his non-existent right eye.

He’d once been an ordinary lad with dreams of captaining his own ship one day. When he was 14, he found work on a merchant ship that had the misfortune of running into pirates on the way home. The pirates had given him a choice: walk the plank or join them as a member of the crew. He chose the latter, not because he had any interest in becoming a pirate, but because it was the only way he could keep his life. Not long after that, he killed a man. And he did not stop, even after he became the captain of his own ship. He terrorised the seas for nearly two decades before he ran afoul of the young Xena. By that time, he’d grown weary of the pirate’s life, and it had come almost as a relief when he found himself staring down at the length of steel buried deep within his chest. He would never forget looking up into the startling blue eyes of the young woman who had wielded that sword.

The pirate captain looked at the woman in front of him, her face superimposed upon that of his killer from yesteryear. They were one and the same. But it was at this moment he finally realised why he’d waited so long for this day. It was not to get revenge on his killer, but to thank her, because she had actually done him a favour. Near the end of his life, he had grown to hate the man he’d become, and the bloody legacy he would leave behind. She had saved him from the ignominy of falling onto his own sword.

But he couldn’t bring himself to thank her in front of his bloodthirsty peers, so he simply said to Termin, “We outnumber her by more than a hundred to one. Even if we succeed in killing her, what does it prove? Nothing—that’s what. Except that we aren’t man enough to go up against her one on one. I’m no lily-livered coward. Stay if you want, but I want no part of this.”

With that, he turned and left. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, the majority of the remaining men followed, either persuaded by his argument, or agreeing with his sentiment of not wanting their reputations tarnished further.

When they were gone, Xena studied the six men left standing in her way. They were, with the exclusion of Termin, all highly dangerous and highly motivated. Every one of them had died by her own hand. She’d either slit their throats or rammed her sword up under their rib cages and into their hearts. Three of them were assassins, no doubt seeking to finish the job they had begun decades ago. The other two used to be her lieutenants. They’d grown too big for their breeches and tried to usurp her position as warlord. She’d made an example out of them.

Xena recognised that she would not be able to sway these men with words alone. Which left her with one last resort. “Well boys, looks like it’s just gonna be the six of you against little old me. C’mon then, show me what you got.”

There was no coordinated attack or strategic manoeuvring. Instead, it was every man for himself. That was a fatal mistake on their part and Xena would have made them pay dearly for it. But her doppelgänger had taken away everything that made her so deadly as a warrior, so she did the only thing she could—she stood her ground and watched them come, her breathing slow and measured, her mind focused on a mantra she knew by heart.

Lao Ma’s words echoed in her head.

The entire world is driven by a will—blind and ruthless. In order to transcend the limitations of that world, you need to stop willing, stop desiring, stop hating. To conquer others is to have power; to conquer yourself is to know the way.

“One must cease desiring—and become what we desire,” Xena spoke the last part of the incantation out loud, seemingly without any urgency, despite one of the assassins bearing down on her with his sword aimed at her unprotected neck. She didn’t have time to dodge the blow. She didn’t even try. Instead, she surrendered herself to the powers of Lao Ma, trusting them to keep her safe. Out of nowhere, a breeze stirred, flitting across her face, and ruffling through her raven-black hair before swirling lazily around her body. It turned aside the sword blow before it could touch her, then playfully swatted the man on his rear end as his momentum sent him stumbling past.

As two more men converged upon Xena, the wind took on a more active role. It physically picked the warrior up, moving her gracefully through the air. Like a partner well-versed in the choreography of the dance, it led her firmly but gently through the moves, turning her in tight pirouettes and swinging her wide, then bringing her back in close with perfect timing to keep her out of harm’s way.

When she passed the last man, the open field morphed back into a tunnel, and the wind adjusted accordingly, depositing her back on her feet. Xena felt the wind caress her cheek gently, like a lingering touch from a long-dead lover. She closed her eyes. There, standing in front of her with a tender smile on her face, was her mentor and one-time lover.

“My warrior princess…”

“Lao Ma…” Xena returned the smile with one of her own—a smile born of gratitude yet tinged with not a little regret. “Thank you. For everything.”

***

Xena had to admit it had been a huge gamble to place all of her trust in Lao Ma’s powers without a fallback plan, but she was glad it had paid off. It was true she had successfully wielded the power on more than one occasion previously. However, they didn’t always come at her call. She didn’t have the purity of thought her mentor had, and her naturally combative nature and her need to exert control in every situation certainly didn’t help.

When Lao Ma first tried to impart her abilities to Xena, the warrior could not grasp the principles behind them. Her mentor had laughed at her first attempt, when she’d tried to stare a bottle into oblivion. Obviously, that hadn’t worked. Back then, Xena knew only one way to get what she wanted, and that was to attack everything with the full power of her will behind her.

Her mentor once told her the key to unlocking the power was to cease to will, to cease to desire, and to cease to hate—the same three qualities that defined the Xena of yesteryear. That was the Xena that Lao Ma had known, a hateful woman who wanted nothing more than to conquer the world and raze everything to the ground. But her mentor must have seen some redeeming qualities in the bitter warrior, because she took Xena under her wing and dubbed her ‘my warrior princess’.

Lao Ma healed her physical infirmities, but she could not reverse the damage to Xena’s soul that Caesar’s betrayal and the subsequent death of M’Lila had wrought upon her. Her mentor did manage to lay down a solid foundation, upon which Gabrielle would later build on, thus bringing the dream and reality of a warrior princess to fruition. Thanks to her soulmate, Xena learned to let go of her hatred, one of the qualities that was stopping her from unlocking the powers her mentor had once wielded with such ease.

When Xena had teamed up with Lao Ma’s daughter, Kao H’sin, to defeat Go Kun and his army, she realised the power had a mind of its own. It did not bend to their wills or desires. They were merely vessels for it. That should already have been abundantly clear, given Lao Ma’s teachings, and the mantra she’d left behind. But it was one thing to know, and another thing to understand.

That newfound understanding, coupled with the time Xena had spent as a ghost, helped the warrior make significant progress. She could now attain a state of perfect stillness within a matter of a few minutes, but there was still some way between achieving that stillness and having the power come when she called. In all likelihood, she would not have made the final breakthrough if she hadn’t been forced to watch helplessly from the sidelines while her soul, and her hopes of the many lifetimes she would spend with Gabrielle, disappeared into the void. That was when she learned what it meant to submit herself to the greater whole.

Even then, Xena had struggled. There had been a harrowing moment, when both she and Gabrielle had succumbed to the poison left behind by the foreign dragon. She had tried to call on Lao Ma’s powers to help them. Her first attempt failed, her desperate desire keeping the power tantalisingly out of reach. It was only at the last, when all seemed lost, that she had succeeded. It had been an uncomfortably close call, which was why the warrior had her doubts she would succeed here and now. But she had.

“You must be proud of yourself. That was very well played,” the doppelgänger said, appearing out of nowhere to fall into step with the warrior. “I was sure you would use the ring. But it looks like you took Lao Ma’s teachings to heart. That’s why you weren’t worried about me killing you or taking away your abilities. You had this up your sleeve the whole time.”

Her doppelgänger opened her right hand, and Xena felt the strength and energy she’d lost flooding back into her body. It was a heady rush of adrenaline—the best kind. She wanted to leap into the air, break into a somersault, and wrestle a giant elk, all at the same time. But she forcibly restrained herself. There would be time for celebrations later, after Gabrielle was back safe and sound.

Having her physical abilities returned to her would suggest that she had successfully passed her trials in the dream passage. Expecting the exit door to make an appearance soon, she increased her pace, pushing forward, her doppelgänger in lockstep beside her. Xena kept her eyes peeled, hoping to catch a glimpse of the exit beckoning in the distance, but every step she took only brought on more of the same. The tunnel continued before her, unchanged, the darkness impenetrable.

Her doppelgänger said nothing, and Xena began to wonder if she might have misread the situation somehow. The last time she’d been through the dream passage, she’d had three encounters, not including the one with Gabrielle. The third and final encounter had happened only after the exit door appeared. That had been her doppelgänger, who also happened to be the key she needed to leave the dream passage. Maybe the dream passage wasn’t done with her yet. Her suspicions were borne out when her doppelgänger finally broke the silence.

“Why didn’t you use the ring?” the doppelgänger asked.

The question seemed innocuous enough. Even though Xena hadn’t forsaken love, theoretically she could have used the power of the ring to fight off the mob, and taken it off before it destroyed everything she held dear. But the window in which she could have done so was too small for her to have pulled it off. She should know. She’d attempted the same while trying to rescue Gabrielle in the Norse Lands. Odin and his Valkyries had waylaid her, giving her no way out. She’d gambled and lost then. As a result, both Gabrielle and she had lost an entire year they would never get back. That was not even taking into account the opening it would have given her doppelgänger.

But Xena didn’t let on that she was wise to her doppelgänger. “I would have lost my memory. Besides, Gabrielle wouldn’t want me to.”

“But you don’t always do what Gabrielle wants, do you?” When no answer was forthcoming, the doppelgänger said, “You know how she feels about you keeping secrets from her. But you do it anyway.”

Unsure of what her doppelgänger was getting at, Xena kept quiet.

“You made her believe that if one of you died, the other would survive as long as your child lives. That only applies to her, not to you. Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” the doppelgänger pressed.

“Gabrielle has enough on her mind. She doesn’t need to worry about that as well,” Xena said. “Why are we talking about this?”

“Because Gabrielle has become your fatal flaw. And I mean that in every sense of the word,” the doppelgänger said.

***

Being abducted by someone with a vendetta against Xena isn’t something new for Gabrielle. She’d found herself in similar situations many times before. And she wasn’t about to mope around and feel sorry for herself.

For some reason, neither Najara nor Alti had thought to search or disarm her. Perhaps they didn’t see her as a threat. It wouldn’t be the first time. Gabrielle was used to being dismissed and discounted by Xena’s many adversaries. Normally, she would have jumped at the chance to prove her detractors wrong. However, she’d been out shopping when Najara had snatched her off the streets. Her backpack, in which she kept a set of emergency lock picks, was sitting back in their room at the inn. All the money she’d spent that morning had gone to filling her stomach, a fortuitous happenstance since she doubted Alti was planning on feeding her. Other than her trusty sais, and her money pouch, she really didn’t have anything that might be of use on her.

This was where her odd choice of weapons paid off. Unlike a sword or a dagger which would be useless in this type of situation, the narrow points of her sais fitted perfectly into the locking mechanism on her shackles, and she was able to push the locking pins out fairly easily to free her wrists and ankles. The collar on her neck proved more difficult. She could only work by feel, having no mirror in which to see what she was doing, and she nicked herself more than a couple of times before she was able to get it off.

Free of her chains, Gabrielle had full rein of her jail cell, and she examined every inch of it. The only way in and out was through the door. That was securely locked from the outside. There were no locking bars she could shimmy off, only a keyhole which necessitated a key, or a lock pick, neither of which Gabrielle had access to. She pressed herself against the bars of the cell, scanning her surroundings for anything that might come in useful. She was greeted by the same sterile white walls she’d glimpsed through the bars earlier. There were no torches or scones, or any discernible source of light, even though everything was lit up as bright as if it were midday outside. To her utter disappointment, she didn’t find a bunch of keys just hanging outside her cell that she could snag with the chains she had available to her.

Trapped with no means of escape, Gabrielle tucked her sais back into her boots and sat down to make sense of everything that had happened. She still didn’t understand how she came to be here or what connection, if any, there was between Najara and Alti. From what Gabrielle knew, the two had never met. Alti had died a few months before they ever crossed paths with Najara, and it seemed unlikely the two women were acquainted in any way. Unless, of course, the djinn Najara had been referring to all this while was actually Alti. But that made little sense. The djinn were supposed to be full of love and goodness. The one-time shamaness was neither. Alti lived to exploit the darkness of humankind. And despite Najara’s many flaws and failings, Gabrielle could not imagine the zealot willingly tolerating someone as evil as Alti to live, much less dictate her life and actions.

It was more plausible that the two women weren’t connected in any way, and that Alti had merely taken the opportunity to steal Gabrielle away while both Xena and Najara had been distracted. The shamaness could have been keeping tabs on them and struck when the opportunity presented itself. If that was the case, Alti would have to had left a clue or a note so Xena would know that she had taken Gabrielle. Unless, of course, the shamaness knew about their soul-link, in which case all bets were off.

The shamaness knew Xena and Gabrielle were soulmates. That was made clear when they’d appeared together in their next life to stop Alti’s reincarnation, Khindin. But no one outside the oriental dragons of the Southern Forest clan knew about their soul-link. They hadn’t even told Xena’s daughter, Eve, about it. If the shamaness had learned about their soul-link, then there was a possibility she also knew the truth about Gabrielle’s pregnancy. The idea was terrifying. Alti had gone after the soul of Xena’s baby once, and it didn’t seem much of a stretch that she might do the same again. Gabrielle’s hand crept of its own accord over her still-flat abdomen, as if trying to shield her baby from that fate.

But as quickly as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. If Alti had known about their soul-link or the baby, she would have made it a point to rub that knowledge in Gabrielle’s face the first chance she got. The fact that she hadn’t, meant she didn’t know. Then again, Gabrielle was basing her assumptions off of what she knew about the shamaness from the limited interactions they’d had previously. This woman looked nothing like the Alti she’d known, either in this life or the next. And she certainly didn’t act like her at all.

In all of their previous meetings, the shamaness had been overly aggressive, always invading her personal space, getting up in her face, and grabbing or choking her. This woman had been confrontational as well, pushing her face up against the bars to get closer to Gabrielle. But that had been the full extent of it. There was no attempt to physically hurt her. In fact, the woman hadn’t laid a finger on her the whole time. It didn’t appear to be a lack of desire on the woman’s part though. She had said as much, and the sinister glint in her eyes had attested to it.

Still, Gabrielle found it odd that the woman had not tried to touch her or hurt her. Was it because she couldn’t? Or she didn’t dare to? After all, the woman had admitted to being afraid of pushing Xena too far. That too seemed out of character. Gabrielle had never known Alti to be afraid. The shamaness was many things—arrogant, overconfident, ambitious, sadistic, and narcissistic. But she had never shown any signs of being afraid; not even of Xena, despite the warrior being the one who had killed her, and who had come out on top every time their paths crossed.

But if there’s one constant in life, it is that things change. If the woman was telling the truth about being from the future, then she could have experienced defeat at Xena’s hands often enough to have developed a healthy fear of the warrior. Or perhaps the woman knew she wouldn’t be a match for Xena. That might be the real reason she hadn’t hurt Gabrielle—she needed a hostage.

Gabrielle thought back to the dream she’d had that morning. In it, she’d been a hostage too, held in place by an unseen force, while her soulmate fought her way through what felt like an army to get to her. The relief she’d felt at the warrior’s appearance had quickly turned to dread as an arrowhead pierced deep into her chest, the way it had decades ago when she’d been shot by a Persian scout masquerading as a Spartan deserter. But that searing hot pain had been nothing compared to her raw panic when she realised it was Xena who had been shot, Xena whose lifeblood was pouring out onto the ground, Xena who would fall and never rise again.

A shudder ran through Gabrielle. She’d gotten so caught up in the memory of the dream that it felt as if she was reliving it all over again. She dug the heel of her palm into her forehead, using the pain to ground herself. The image of her soulmate lying pale and lifeless on the bloodstained ground hovered before her. She shook her head violently, trying to dislodge it from her mind. Dwelling on the dream, whether it was a prophecy, a premonition, or merely a manifestation of her own fears, wasn’t going to do her any good.

She tried her soul-link again. It was still dead. The loss of that connection to her soulmate hit Gabrielle particularly hard. Their soul-link allowed them to keep in constant contact, even when they were far apart. But more importantly, it allowed her to keep tabs on the warrior at all times. The reassurance and the peace of mind it gave her was immeasurable. Their soul-link was the one good thing that had come out of the disaster that had been Jappa.

Gabrielle would be the first to admit she’d been using their soul-link as a kind of emotional crutch to get her through the difficult times of the last few months. But she didn’t need her soul-link to know Xena would do everything in her power to get to her. And the warrior would have realised by now she was likely walking into a trap. She had to trust that her soulmate would come through in the end, as she always did.

***

Xena could understand why her old self would see Gabrielle as her weakness. She’d admitted as much before. And her enemies certainly saw the younger woman as a chink in her armour. But what they, and her doppelgänger, could never hope to understand, was that her seeming weakness was also the source of her strength. Xena would not be who she was today if it weren’t for the bard. “You would think that, but you would be wrong. Gabrielle’s not my fatal flaw, she’s my inspiration.”

“You mean your moral compass. But that doesn’t change what she is. If she dies, you die. No matter how you look at it, she’s your Achilles’ heel,” the doppelgänger pointed out. “Maybe it’s true you didn’t want to burden her with the truth. But aren’t you also using it as an excuse to continue your reckless behaviour?”

Recklessness implied irresponsibility. Xena was nothing if not responsible. At least when it came to her own actions. Sometimes, those actions could come across as impulsive or rash, and it might seem as if she was forever taking on seemingly impossible odds. But that was because needs must. Xena didn’t go out of her way to tempt fate for the thrill of it. She did what she had to do because there was often no other choice.

“I’m a warrior. I take risks. But I’m never reckless,” Xena said. She stopped herself. That wasn’t technically true. There had been a time in her life when she hadn’t cared about the consequences of her actions, when she’d been indifferent to the danger she’d put herself or others in. She corrected herself before her doppelgänger could do it for her. “I was reckless in the past. But not now.”

“I don’t think Gabrielle would agree. Jappa really did a number on her, didn’t it? She still has nightmares about it. No, not nightmares—flashbacks. She’s afraid of losing you, of stumbling across your corpse or having to watch you die all over again,” the doppelgänger said.

“But you don’t care, do you?” the doppelgänger continued without so much as a pause. “The trauma you put her through every time you rush into danger—do you ever think about that? How she feels? If you did, you would give up the way of the warrior. But you won’t. Because you’re selfish. You only care about yourself. How are you any different from me?”

The criticism from her doppelgänger was not without merit. Jappa had indeed affected the bard deeply. After their return to Greece, her soulmate had appeared to be doing better. But all the progress Gabrielle had made came completely undone the moment Xena had collapsed after being bitten by a wolf man. That was a week ago. Since then, the bard would often appear distracted. Sometimes, she would watch Xena’s every move like a hawk and refuse to let the warrior out of her sight. Her mood would also change without warning, at times becoming downright irritable.

Last night was the first time since the incident that Gabrielle had openly talked about her struggles. They hadn’t been able to resolve anything, but it was a step in the right direction. Xena wanted to believe the worst was over, and that the bard was finally on the mend. But as her doppelgänger had pointed out, they took risks every day. Not just Xena; Gabrielle too. Trouble had a way of finding them no matter where they were. It was more than likely they would find themselves in a similar situation one day, and it would trigger the bard all over again. But being triggered wasn’t the issue here. And the solution wasn’t as simple as her doppelgänger was making it out to be.

“I love Gabrielle,” Xena told her doppelgänger. “Of course I want what’s best for her. But giving up the way of the warrior isn’t the answer.”

“That’s because you can’t give it up. If you did, you would be nothing.”

Xena ignored the barbed comment and continued on as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “I am a warrior. It is who I am. Gabrielle knows that. If I gave that up for her, she would never forgive herself. She would carry that guilt forever. And what does it accomplish? Nothing. Except put everyone at greater risk.”

“And I’m supposed to be the bad guy?” the doppelgänger barked out a cynical laugh. “You claim to love her. But you’re not willing to make any changes for her. Instead, you continue to traumatise her again and again. How does that help Gabrielle? How is that wanting what’s best for her?”

“I didn’t know you cared,” Xena shot back. It was a throwaway comment, one designed to buy the warrior time—time to figure out where the conversation was headed. She had asked herself many of the same questions her doppelgänger was asking. Those questions were at the heart of nearly all her insecurities and doubts when it came to Gabrielle.

For the longest time, the warrior had believed herself to be a constant source of pain for her young partner. She always ended up hurting the bard, even though it was rarely her intention to do so. That was when her doubts and her insecurities had first crept in—fear too; fear that she would one day lose Gabrielle because of it.

Everything came to a head after Jappa. Her decision to sacrifice herself for the greater good had almost cost Gabrielle her life—in more ways than one. Xena had watched as her soulmate struggled to cope with the fall-out. And it had driven the warrior to make another ill-advised decision, one that had further compounded the situation. That was how Gabrielle had ended up in purgatory—not because of Jappa, but because of her.

Her doppelgänger was right. How could she claim to love Gabrielle when all she did was hurt her soulmate? That question had plagued Xena from the very beginning. If she’d had a say, any say at all, she would have sent Gabrielle far away from her a long time ago. She had tried to do it twice, once with Perdicus, and once with Najara. Both had backfired spectacularly. The former had ended with the senseless death of Perdicus and inflicted a lot of trauma on both Gabrielle and her. As for the latter—well, they were still paying for that decision to this day.

After that, sending Gabrielle away wasn’t an option any more. Firstly, because the bard wouldn’t entertain any talk of it. And secondly, because Xena couldn’t bear to do so. Was it selfish of her? Yes. Could she have done more for her soulmate? Also, yes. So, if this was a test, designed to make her admit her own missteps and inadequacies when it came to Gabrielle, then in all likelihood, she would fail. Not because she wasn’t willing to admit them. But because she couldn’t even begin to justify any of it to herself, much less her doppelgänger. Xena needed time—to strategise.

But her doppelgänger saw right through her plan and didn’t even miss a beat. “I don’t. But you do. Or so you say. But you haven’t shown me you care about her at all. What have you done to help her? Why should she stay with you?”

***

Once again, they were valid questions. And Xena had the answers. The problem was—how was she supposed to convince her doppelgänger when she couldn’t even convince herself? While she considered how to best approach this new challenge, she mentally reviewed the first two challenges, hoping to find a way forward. To her surprise, she did.

When Morpheus had sent her into the dream passage, Xena hadn’t known what to expect. She didn’t have a plan of attack. Instead, she’d trusted her gut and tackled each challenge as it presented itself. In the first, her doppelgänger had tried to goad her into attacking. In the second, it was to convince her to use the Rheingold ring. Both times, violence seemed to be the only way forward. Both times she had found a peaceful resolution. But the outcome wasn’t as important as what the challenges had forced her to confront—her fears, her inadequacies, and the ugly truth—about herself and about her past.

It was just as the god of dreams had said. Confronting her fears and her demons was the price she had to pay for travelling the dream passage. That was what the challenges and the trials had been about. It was the same here. She didn’t need to convince her doppelgänger. She just needed to face up to her fears and her doubts—this time about Gabrielle. Then again, it wasn’t as if she had a choice in the matter. Her doppelgänger knew everything she knew. Lying wasn’t an option. She had to tell the truth—her truth, as she saw it.

Xena decided to take a page out of Gabrielle’s book and use a metaphor. She asked her doppelgänger, “If a tree falls in the forest, and there is no one around to hear it. Does it make a sound?”

The doppelgänger frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You never did have any patience for philosophy,” Xena quipped.

“Neither do you,” the doppelgänger shot back.

Xena shrugged. “Gabrielle must have rubbed off on me.”

“Stop stalling. Or I’m gonna think you don’t have a good answer for me,” the doppelgänger said.

“The answer is ‘yes’,” Xena said. “If a tree falls in the forest, it will make a sound, even if there is no one around to hear it. But the impact will only be felt by those around it—not the ones who heard it fall, but the ones who have to live with it. To survive, they need to adapt and adjust to the fallen tree. It’s the same with trauma.”

Xena paused briefly before continuing. “Everyone responds to trauma differently. Some people, like you and I, are hardened against it and go on with their everyday lives as if it is nothing. Some never succumb to it until they are old and grey. At the end of the day, nobody can remove that trauma from another person’s life or erase it from their mind. We can be there for them, and we can give them our full support. But they are the ones who have to do the heavy lifting. They need to learn to cope with it. And, if they are lucky, move beyond it.”

“You might argue that it’s different for Gabrielle since I’m her soulmate,” Xena continued. “And you would be right. I can take away her negative emotions—the pain, the fear, the doubt, even the anguish. But that’s only if she allows me to. I haven’t asked her. And I won’t. Maybe it would make her life easier now. But I will not always be here. If she doesn’t learn to cope with the trauma and the pain while I’m here to keep the nightmares and flashbacks at bay, how will she be able to cope when I’m not?”

“Gabrielle is more resilient than you give her credit for. She may be struggling now, but I have every faith she’ll get through this,” Xena told her doppelgänger.

“And that’s reason enough for her to stay with you?” the doppelgänger asked.

“No. Gabrielle stays because she wants to. She knew the life she was signing up for. She accepted the consequences. I was the one who wasn’t willing to accept them. I still don’t—most of the time. But Gabrielle isn’t a little girl any more. She’s all grown up. She has a mind of her own. And I’ve learned that people like me—people like us—we need to listen to her more.”

Her doppelgänger did not respond. But there was no need to. Xena could sense a shift in the dream passage. Then she saw it. The tunnel, which had been gloomy and dark all this while, started to lighten, revealing the outline of a door up ahead.

“The exit,” the doppelgänger announced redundantly as they came to a stop in front of the door. “You know how this works. You can’t go through that door until you have the key.”

Xena looked at her doppelgänger in surprise. “That’s it? You’re not going to persuade me to return to the good old days?”

“That ship has sailed. You made your choice. And nothing’s going to change your mind,” the doppelgänger said.

Xena couldn’t put her finger on it, but something felt off here. She was missing something—something important. She decided to probe further, “What choice was that?”

“Gabrielle, of course. You chose her over me.”

The answer threw the warrior for a loop. “What are you talking about? I’m you, and you’re me. Didn’t we already establish this thirty years ago?”

“But I’m not you,” the doppelgänger said. “I’m your dark side, the darkest of the dark. I’m the side of you that Gabrielle fears, the side that she would never accept. I’m the darkness to her light, the demon to her angel. Do you remember when Eli brought you back from the dead?”

How could Xena forget? It was sometime after she and Gabrielle had been crucified on Mount Amaro. Joxer, Amarice, and Eli had retrieved their bodies from the crucifixes. Feeling responsible for their deaths, Eli had used his fledgling powers to bring them back to life. But something went wrong, and Xena was resurrected without most of her memories. Later, she would learn that she’d been brought back without her dark side so that the war gods, Ares and Kal, wouldn’t get their hands on the light chakram and its ability to kill gods.

In the end, Xena had chosen to neutralise the light chakram, joining it with the dark chakram Ares had given her years ago. The act of joining the two chakrams also restored her memories and returned her to her old self, something she would not have contemplated doing if it weren’t for Gabrielle. The irony wasn’t lost on the warrior.

The bard had always believed the cycle of hatred and violence needed to end—beliefs which were essentially at odds with who Xena had been, and who she continued to be—for the most part. In their early years together, Gabrielle had used her influence and her skills of persuasion to try to shape the warrior into her ideal hero, someone who fought for the downtrodden, and who only killed when necessary. But once the young woman saw for herself what a ‘good’ Xena was like, she realised the warrior would not be the force of good she was without her dark side.

That was when the bard had told Xena unequivocally that it was vital for her to restore her darkness and her violence. “You do realise it was Gabrielle who brought you back,” she said.

“No, she didn’t. When you combined the chakrams, you balanced them. And you balanced yourself, leaving me to rot here—in the dreamscape, where I’ve remained for the past twenty-eight years.”

Xena didn’t know what to think. Was it possible a part of her had been left behind after she’d balanced the chakrams? Of course, it was. But she hadn’t felt any different after that. Then again, she did have her dark side fully under control by that time, a long convoluted process that had taken her the better part of three years, so she might not have felt a difference either way.

However, she had allowed her dark side to take over about a year ago, when she’d returned to Amphipolis after spending twenty-five years on ice, to find it abandoned, and her mother dead. “I went over to the dark side after I killed Mephistopheles,” Xena said.

The doppelgänger scoffed and asked, “Did anyone die?”

“No,” Xena conceded. She understood what her doppelgänger was getting at. If she had really gone over to the dark side, as she had in the past, many somebodies would have died. The fact no one did, seemed to support the narrative her doppelgänger was pushing. But there was a problem with that narrative, a glaring one. “If you were really my darkest side, you would have already forsaken love. But everything I’ve heard from you so far shows that you haven’t. You care about Gabrielle, even though you say you don’t. You love her. Just like I do.”

The doppelgänger laughed, as if Xena had cracked a joke. “I have no use for love. Have you forgotten? After Solon was killed, I wanted revenge. It was I who dragged Gabrielle from the Amazon village by her ankles. And I would have thrown her off that cliff too. So don’t talk to me about love.”

Xena winced at the memory. It wasn’t one of her finest moments. She could still remember the sheer fury that had driven her that day—not only because her son had been taken away from her just when they were starting to establish a relationship with each other, but more so because of Gabrielle’s betrayal. That betrayal bit so deep that it’d threatened to destroy everything Xena had come to believe in. She’d allowed herself to trust, to love, to be vulnerable, and it had cost her son his life. That had been a turning point for her relationship with Gabrielle. And it had been a turning point for her as well. But it also meant her doppelgänger did indeed know what it meant to love.

“That shows you loved Solon too.”

“He was my son!” the doppelgänger blurted out.

“Our son,” Xena corrected her doppelgänger gently. “And we loved him.”

It was becoming apparent to Xena what she had to do here. Whether her doppelgänger was telling the truth about being her darkest side, was irrelevant. What mattered, was that she’d made peace with herself. She had accepted who she was, and who she had been. If the dream passage was about confronting her demons, then the key was to accept those demons as a part of her.

Xena held out her hand to her doppelgänger, “Come, Gabrielle needs us.”

The doppelgänger stared hungrily at the proffered hand but did not make a move towards it. “You’ll regret this.”

Maybe she would. But Xena’s instincts were telling her this was the right move. “I won’t.”

The doppelgänger hesitated for a moment longer but ultimately reached out to take the warrior’s hand. They stepped through the exit door together.

***

Being teleported from one place to another can be a disorienting experience, even for someone like Xena who had been through it before and knew what to expect. However, she wasn’t prepared for the glare of her new surroundings. In the split second it took for her eyes to adjust, she was vulnerable. If there had been an ambush waiting for her, she could have been in serious trouble.

But there was no ambush, only an empty room filled with tables and chairs, and all sorts of furniture. She glanced behind her, this time checking not for an ambush, but for signs of a door or a portal back into the dream passage. There were none, so she turned her attention back to the room she was in.

The walls, floor, and ceiling of the room were uniformly white. Xena brushed her fingers across the surface of one wall. It was smooth and hard. The texture and the colour reminded her of the white marble found only in Thasos, a Greek island off the coast of eastern Macedonia, not too far from the Amazon lands. The stone was prized for its purity and its ability to reflect light. It was also very expensive and used exclusively for sculpting and for building temples and monuments to the gods.

The sheer amount of white marble in the room alone made Xena wonder if she might be in a temple. Najara had always referred to the djinn as her spiritual guides, but given the way she spoke about them, it wouldn’t surprise the warrior if they were actually gods or deities of another land. Xena had her fair share of experiences with the gods, so the idea of going up against one wasn’t as daunting as it might be for the average person. Still, it was a complication she could do without, especially since her soulmate was pregnant.

Fortunately, Gabrielle was now in her second trimester, which significantly reduced the risk of a miscarriage. Even so, things tended to get a bit dicey when the gods were involved. They were capricious beings, prone to sudden outbursts that could have very real and very serious consequences for everyone caught up in it. But a room constructed completely out of white marble didn’t a temple make. It was far too early to tell if the djinn, or the gods were involved in the abduction of her soulmate.

There was also something otherworldly about the room. There were no shadows, no windows, no visible source of light. And yet, the room was uncomfortably bright, as if someone had plucked the noonday sun out of the sky and brought it indoors. Xena went to the door, pausing a moment to listen for any movement outside, before easing it open a crack, just enough for her to peek through. Once she was sure the coast was clear, she pushed the door wider and stuck her head out. A brightly lit hallway stretched in front of her, as well as to her immediate left and right. There were no furnishings, no carpets, and no people, just featureless white corridors leading to parts unknown. She slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Whatever and wherever this place was, Gabrielle was here. Of that, there could be no doubt. Xena’s soul-link had come alive the moment she’d arrived from the dream passage, and she should have reached out to her soulmate immediately. But she’d been expecting an ambush, an ambush that had failed to materialise. Now faced with the empty hallways, and the absence of any guards, the warrior was more convinced than ever she was walking into a trap of some sort.

She needed to check in on Gabrielle before she proceeded any further. However, instead of calling out to her soulmate directly, Xena used her soul-link to share what she was seeing—the empty hallways, the pure white walls, and the all-pervasive light.

The reply from Gabrielle was immediate, though a touch tentative at first. Xena?Xena! Where are you? Never mind.It’s a trap. I don’t know how she did it, but it’s Alti. She planned this…

That was the last name Xena had expected to hear—her old nemesis, the evil shamaness who had made her the Destroyer of Nations—Alti. Though it made a sick kind of sense that her old nemesis would show up now to mess with their lives once again. Xena followed her soul-link towards the corridor on her right while Gabrielle caught her up on everything that had happened.

They had last encountered the shamaness less than a year ago, in an alternate world created by Caesar in his afterlife. There, Alti had been the victor, making it the one and only time she had triumphed over the warrior in this lifetime—and the next. But that victory would be short-lived, because that world was destroyed when Gabrielle, distraught at being forced to endure a life without Xena, had burned the loom of the Fates, and returned them to their world.

In India, the darshan had told the soulmates they would encounter Alti in many of their future lives and defeat her in every one of them. If that was true, and this woman claiming to be Alti was indeed from the future, then Xena could understand why her old nemesis would want to recreate the circumstances where she’d last been on the winning end. The only way to do that, was to change history, the same way Caesar had.

After the loom was destroyed, and with the Fates nowhere to be found, it should have been impossible to change the past. But her old nemesis had apparently found a way to do so, though there were limitations on when and where she could actively interfere. If this was indeed her last chance, then Alti would be desperate. Desperate people were almost always dangerous. Xena needed to tread carefully, but it wasn’t going to stop her from walking into a trap if that was what it took to keep Gabrielle safe.

Where’s Alti now? Xena asked.

I don’t know, Gabrielle said. She’s not here.

Xena felt a weight lift off of her shoulders. As long as Alti wasn’t there, Gabrielle was safe. More likely than not, her old nemesis was waiting to ambush her. Maybe alone, maybe with the djinn. The warrior had no doubt she would find out soon enough. But for now, her focus was on rescuing Gabrielle.

She navigated her way through the identical corridors while she listened to the bard chatter on about her various theories on Alti. Occasionally, she would come across a door, but she didn’t bother checking behind any of them. The silence, broken only by the sound of her own breathing, told its own story. The place felt vacant and unlived-in. Xena began to think she might be in another multi-storey building. She was quickly proven right when her soul-link deposited her in the middle of another empty hallway.

I think Alti’s lost her powers. She— Gabrielle was saying.

Xena interrupted her. Gabrielle, where are you?

That brought the bard up short. She’d been so focused on Alti, and what she’d observed about the woman claiming to be Alti, that she’d forgotten to give Xena the most important information—her location. She allowed the warrior to look through her eyes—at the bars of the cell she was in, and the locked door. Then she stepped up to the bars, and slowly panned from the wall on her left, to the corridor running off to her right.

A dungeon. Gabrielle’s in a dungeon, Xena thought to herself.

The basement would be the most logical place for a dungeon. Xena hadn’t seen a staircase on her way here, so she continued down the corridor she was in. Two turns later, the corridor opened up onto a sweeping spiral staircase made out of the same material as the rest of the building. Balustrades on either side of the staircase separated Xena from a steep drop down. She was on the highest floor.

***

Xena headed down the staircase, pausing only briefly at each landing to check they were clear before continuing downwards. At the bottom of the stairs, she was met with massive banded-steel doors that she presumed was the main entrance. The doors were closed, though not locked from the inside. Aside from the staircase and the doors, there was nothing else in the foyer. Hallways on the right and left led into the east and west wing of the building respectively.

Generally speaking, basements were places of secrecy, where the undesirable or the unpresentable were hidden away, both of which would describe a dungeon perfectly. For that reason, access to the basement was often tucked away in an obscure corner of a building, away from the main entrance. In the absence of a map, and without any tracks to follow, Xena did what she typically did in such situations, she chose a hallway at random and started her search there.

This was where the constant unchanging light became more of a hindrance than a help. Shadows were more than an absence of light; they provided important visual cues which the brain uses to determine depth and the relative position of an object to its surroundings. Without those cues, everything took on a featureless uniformity. The floor blended into the walls which then blended into the ceiling. From a distance, Xena could not tell the difference between the entrance to a hallway and the entrance to a staircase that would take her down to the basement. So, she searched methodically, walking down every corridor and hallway, and peeking behind every door.

She didn’t encounter anyone. There were no guards stationed inside the doors, and no one appeared to stop her or question her right to be wandering the halls. After what felt like a half hour, Xena finally found what she was looking for. From the outside, the corridor she entered looked just like the dozen or so other corridors she’d passed by earlier. But once she stepped into the corridor, she immediately spotted a set of stairs heading down.

It wasn’t dark and narrow as these things generally were, but bright and broad enough for two people to walk side by side comfortably. The stairs were also out in the open, with no effort made to conceal them. There were no doors that could be locked from the outside to prevent anyone from escaping. Xena glanced up at the ceiling, half expecting to find a portcullis hanging overhead. If there was one, it was cleverly hidden away.

The location was perfect for an ambush. If she were Alti, this was where she would set it up—right here, at the top of the stairs. It was the only way in or out of the basement. Once someone was in the basement, they would have nowhere to go except up, which would be the best time to spring an ambush. If that was truly the play here, then the absence of any guards, and the endlessly empty rooms and hallways were likely an attempt to make Xena let down her guard. Which would be laughable, considering this wasn’t her first rodeo.

But Alti wasn’t Xena, which was why there wouldn’t be an ambush waiting for the warrior if she ever came back this way. Knowing her old nemesis, the attack would most likely come in the basement itself, in full view of Gabrielle’s cell. Alti was the ultimate sadist. She revelled in the pain and suffering of others. Torture was one of her favourite pastimes, specifically psychological torture, which greatly multiplied the power she could gain from merely subjecting her victims to physical torture. And what better way to do that than in front of witnesses, especially those nearest and dearest. Which, in Xena’s case, would be Gabrielle.

The warrior drew her sword, holding it at the ready as she cautiously crept down the stairs. In front of her, the corridor continued for a fair distance before making a sharp right turn, and Xena could see the dungeon properly for the first time. Immediately to her left, was a jail cell. Beyond that was another cell, this one near the back of the dungeon, with the unmistakeable figure of her soulmate standing pressed up against the bars, waving her arm to get her attention.

“Xena!” Gabrielle whisper-shouted from her cell.

“Gabrielle.” Xena hurried over, sword still in hand.

When the warrior reached her, Gabrielle clasped Xena’s free hand in her own, relieved and happy to see her soulmate. “I knew you would come.”

“Let’s get you out of here,” Xena said, studying the lock on the cell door. It was too sturdy for her to bash through. Luckily, she didn’t need to. She kept a set of lock picks on her at all times. It was a recent development, thanks to the largesse of the oriental dragons who had presented her with all sorts of new toys, and old ones, before they had left Chin more than three weeks ago. She was about to reach into her cleavage for them when Gabrielle’s eyes widened.

Xena was already pivoting to meet the threat before Gabrielle could shout a warning.

“You’ve grown soft, Xena.”

The voice was unfamiliar. And so was the face. But that look—Xena would know that look anywhere. Alti.

The woman stood near the wall, a little over a metre away. She had a bundle of sage in her right hand, and was using it to make circular motions in the warrior’s direction. There had to be some sort of significance behind the sage and the circles. Xena didn’t know what it might be, but she didn’t wait to find out. She continued her pivot, swinging her sword up as she did so.

The speed of the attack caught Alti by surprise. She panicked and fell back into the wall. Luckily for her, the fall took her out of harm’s way, and the tip of the blade whistled past her nose, missing it by mere inches. The impact of the fall had also caused her to drop the items she had been holding. She didn’t get a chance to reach for them before Xena’s boot connected squarely with her abdomen, driving all the air out of her. Doubled over and gasping desperately for air, Alti had a moment to lament the missteps that had led her to this point—when she would once again meet her death at the hands of her archenemy.

But the final blow never came, and Alti realised her earlier observation had been spot on. The one-time Destroyer of Nations had grown soft. She had one chance at turning the tables on her archenemy, and it had to be now. Unfortunately, without the items she’d prepared, she was all out of options—except for the ring. She still had the ring. It wasn’t ideal, but it was what she had. And she would use it. Anything to get one over her arch-nemesis.

Alti raised her right hand, pointed the ruby-inlaid ring at the warrior and hurriedly uttered, “Liga animam.”

There was a pregnant pause, as the world collectively held its breath, then Xena’s sword fell with a loud clatter to the floor. The warrior followed soon after, dropping bonelessly in a crumpled heap next to her fallen weapon. The sight warmed Alti’s stone-cold heart, and she broke out into a cackling laugh, laughing all the louder when Gabrielle lunged at the bars of her cell shouting for the warrior.

Alti prodded the body of her arch-nemesis with the toe of her shoe. The warrior did not respond or offer any resistance. Satisfied, she told Gabrielle, “Save your breath. She’s not coming back. And when it’s time, I’ll come for you.” She flashed the bard a smirk before teleporting away.

Gabrielle crouched down and reached through the bars for her soulmate. She wasn’t exactly sure how everything had gone down. Xena had been standing between her and Alti, thereby blocking her view. But from what she could gather, the warrior had the shamaness completely at her mercy. Yet, she’d stayed her hand and paid the price for it. The old Xena wouldn’t have hesitated. The new Xena? The new Xena had a code. She wouldn’t kill unless it was necessary.

The irony of it all, was that Gabrielle wished the warrior hadn’t held back. She recognised the words that had been spoken before her soulmate had fallen. They were Latin for ‘bind the soul’. Alti had stolen Xena’s soul, and Gabrielle was stuck in a jail cell, helpless to do anything to help the woman she loved.

“Oh Xena… What’re we going to do?”

***

The first thing Xena noticed was the pale rosy hue that suffused everything—the air, the walls, and even her armour. She was in an enclosed space, smaller than Gabrielle’s cell had been. There were no bars, no doors, only four translucent walls through which she could make out indistinct, amorphous shapes on the outside.

She remembered Alti pointing a ring at her—a gold ring with a ruby inlay. And the Latin words that had accompanied the action. Add that to the red hue of her prison, and Xena could only come to one conclusion—her old nemesis had bound her soul to the ring, or more precisely, the ruby.

Xena had dabbled in shamanism, having been introduced to the magical art decades ago by none other than her old nemesis, Alti. She knew shamanic rituals that could bind the soul, and had performed one herself, though that was actually a burial ritual for those who had practised the art of shamanism while they’d been alive. The ritual trapped their souls within their graves, preventing them from using their knowledge of the magical arts to interfere with the natural order of the world. Xena had used the ritual on Alti, after the shamaness had tried to steal her baby’s soul.

Of course, there were other shamanic rituals that could be used to bind a person’s soul, and Alti would know all of them. There were also other magical arts, most of which Xena knew of, but had little to no experience in. The possibilities were endless. But there was no point trying to figure out how her old nemesis had done it. All that mattered, was the why.

Alti had made it clear she intended to take Xena’s powers for her own, likely to make up for what she’d lost as a result of the warrior’s interference in her many lifetimes. Obviously, Xena had no intention of giving her old nemesis anything without a fight—especially not her powers.

Once upon a time, Xena had allowed herself to be manipulated by the shamaness into putting an entire Amazon tribe to the sword. Alti had used that opportunity to trap the spirits of the Amazons in the land of the dead, where she could draw on their strength and their courage to feed the flames of her own dark powers. As a result, hundreds and thousands of people had suffered and died at her hands.

No doubt, history would repeat itself if Alti was allowed to regain her powers. And everything Xena had accomplished in this life, and all her future lives would be for nothing. The warrior wasn’t going to let that happen. She approached one of the walls and was reaching for it when there was a sudden flash of light.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a high-pitched male voice warned from behind the warrior.

Xena whipped around to see the glowing silhouette of a man standing there with his arms crossed. She had often heard Najara refer to the djinn as beings of light, and now that she was face to face with one, she finally understood why. “You’re a djinn.”

“That I am.”

“You’re the one behind this whole plot from the beginning. You sent Najara to drive a wedge between me and Gabrielle,” Xena said.

“That was me,” the djinn admitted. “Though I’m only the facilitator. The witch is the one pulling the strings.”

“You mean Alti.”

The djinn nodded.

“Why are you helping her?” Xena asked.

“This place we’re in?” the djinn said, gesturing to their surroundings. “It’s a ring of containment. It was created to trap the djinn and force them to obey the commands of its wearer. As you can see, I don’t exactly have a say in this. As long as the witch wears the ring, I have to obey her.”

Xena had so many questions that it would be easier to start over from the beginning. “How did you meet Alti?” she asked.

“I didn’t. I was minding my own business when she invoked the power of the ring. That was when I found myself trapped here against my will.”

“Here?” Xena asked.

“Of course. We are in the ring, aren’t we?” the djinn said.

Xena couldn’t decide if the djinn was being deliberately obtuse or outright evasive. He couldn’t seem to give a direct answer to her questions, so she tried a different tack. “How did Alti travel back in time without the Kronos Stone?”

“The Kronos Stone? You mean the stone that the Greek god Zeus used to defeat his father and the Titans? I wasn’t aware it could be used to travel back in time,” the djinn mused.

“Answer my question,” Xena said.

“What question was that?”

Xena had to suppress the urge to throttle the djinn, but she repeated her question, “How did Alti travel back in time?”

“Well, she didn’t. I was visiting the timeline she was in.”

“You can do that?”

“Of course. I’m an elemental. As long as my element exists in a time or place, I can travel there,” the djinn said.

Xena ventured a guess, “Light?”

“Fire.”

There was no way Xena would have known that from looking at the djinn. When she thought of a fire elemental, she imagined it wreathed in flames, not engulfed in light. But she didn’t know enough about elementals to quibble over it. “You make a habit of travelling back and forth through time?” she asked.

“I’m a student of knowledge. I travel where I must, to learn what I may.” The djinn harrumphed. “If you must know, I was there to watch the fall of the Roman Empire. The siege was in its fiftieth day. It was only a matter of time before Constantinople fell to the Ottomans.”

Xena knew all about the Roman Empire. But Constantinople? The Ottomans? Those names were unfamiliar to her, not that she was expecting them to be. After all, the djinn was talking about events that have yet to happen—events that had no relevance to her current situation.

“What did Alti want?” Xena asked, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

“The witch asked me to take her back in time. But it’s not that simple. I can travel freely through time because I’m an elemental. Elementals don’t have souls. Humans do. Souls are very complicated. I could go on a whole day and whole night about how complicated they are. Souls—”

Xena didn’t want to be stuck here all day and all night, so she quickly interrupted him. “How does having a soul affect travelling through time?”

“I would have explained it to you if you hadn’t so rudely interrupted me,” the djinn said, clearly miffed. He paused to clear his throat noisily before continuing, “As I was saying, souls are eternal. They continue on after a human dies. In time, the soul is reborn into a new human form. And when that body dies, the cycle starts over again.”

The djinn was talking about reincarnation. Xena was familiar with the concept. The darshan had called it the karmic circle. Even the archangel Michael had made references to being reborn into a new body. And Eve, her daughter, was really Callisto—reborn. She wondered what souls or reincarnation had to do with time travel, but the djinn was already testy. If she interrupted him again, he might stop answering her questions altogether.

The djinn looked at Xena, as if daring the warrior to interrupt. When she didn’t, he gave a small nod of satisfaction before continuing, “Because the soul is eternal, it exists throughout time, regardless of whether it has a physical form or not. Because it already exists in every timeline, a soul is unable to travel through time, either into the past or the future. Attempting to do so would tear apart the very fabric of time and space.”

Nothing the djinn was saying made much sense to Xena, except for the part about the soul being eternal. She knew from personal experience that it was possible for a person to travel through time. Hercules had done it using the Kronos Stone. And the darshan had sent both Gabrielle and her into the future. That was where they’d met Khindin and brought her back to the present time. Nothing untoward had happened on any of those occasions.

“I know people who have travelled through time,” Xena said.

“Well, don’t look at me. I may be a higher being. But I was created, like you were. I don’t make the rules, I just follow them. The rules don’t apply to everyone. They certainly don’t apply to the gods. I’m just telling you what I know,” the djinn said.

***

The portal deposited Alti safely back in her room. Unlike the rest of the castle, which was austere in its simplicity, and resembled the inside of an army barracks more than an actual castle, Alti had insisted on her room being furnished to her satisfaction. There was a luxurious four-poster bed, covered in a velvety-soft bedsheet made from the finest silk. It reminded her of the bed in which she’d buried a dagger straight into Caesar’s heart. That had been one of the highest points in her many lives, for she’d not only vanquished her archenemy but stolen an empire. However, given what had happened after that, it might as well have been a dream.

There was also a sprawling hardwood table that took up the whole of one wall. Scattered sheets of paper and books of all shapes and sizes were strewn haphazardly across its surface. This was where she had spent most of her time in the days, weeks, and months leading up to now—searching for the perfect spell—one that would render her arch-nemesis helpless while her powers were being drained.

Alti had found one, a spell of soul-binding that would work seamlessly with the power draining spell she had in mind. The problem, as it was with all high-level spells, was its complexity. Spells that could be cast using a simple gesture or a trigger word were mere cantrips—minor spells of convenience, good for nothing more than lighting the stove, or locating the nearest water source. Higher level spells required more preparation and had a significantly longer casting time. They also followed stricter rules, with specific steps that had to be rigidly adhered to. All high-level spells required special ingredients, some of which could be scarce or difficult to obtain.

This spell, in particular, required three main ingredients: a herb brush made of sage, the root of the devil’s shoestring, and a vessel to hold the captive soul. The vessel and the herb brush were easy enough. But the devil’s shoestring was an entirely different matter altogether. Alti had never heard of the plant before, not in any of her many lifetimes, and she certainly didn’t know what it looked like. The illustration in the spell book was of no help. It was so general it could have been anything—a rope, a string, even a snake. Luckily, she had the djinn, who knew what the devil’s shoestring was, and was able to obtain a piece of the root for her. She followed the instructions to dry the root, then placed it in grapeseed oil for two weeks to allow its magical properties to completely infuse into the oil.

When casting the spell, each step had to be followed precisely. Any deviation could cause the spell to fail completely.

First, the sage brush was to be used to draw a circle in the air around the target. This had to be done three times, once for the body, once for the mind, and once for the soul.

Second, the infused grapeseed oil was to be sprinkled upon the target using the sage brush. Again, this had to be done three times, once to bind the body to the physical world, once to bind the mind to the soul, and once to bind the soul to the sage brush.

Third, the sage brush was to be placed inside the prepared vessel and the incantation spoken. Care had to be taken to ensure the proper cadence was used. Once the spell took effect, the sage brush inside the vessel would start glowing, indicating the presence of the bound soul. The vessel should then be sealed with wax from a thrice-blessed candle, and the remains of the infused grapeseed oil poured over the top of it.

As spells went, it wasn’t the most complicated, and it could be cast fairly quickly. Alti had done a few dry runs and had been confident she could complete the spell before Xena had a chance to react. Unfortunately, she had miscalculated—badly. She had only herself to blame. The djinn had set up two trigger spells in the dungeon; one at the entrance, and one right in front of the cell where Xena’s little bitch was held. She should have teleported to the dungeon entrance the moment the first trigger spell had alerted her. Instead, she’d waited for the second trigger spell, choosing to teleport directly behind her arch-nemesis so she could witness up close the moment their hope turned to despair.

That decision had cost her. It had taken away precious time she could have used to complete the spell. And her proximity to her archenemy hadn’t helped either. She’d had her back against the wall, with little room to manoeuvre. Still, she might have pulled it off, if she hadn’t given in to her urge to taunt the warrior. It had brought her a momentary sense of satisfaction, but she’d lost the element of surprise in the process, forcing her to abandon her initial plan and use her ring instead.

None of that mattered now. She had Xena’s soul. That was the most important thing. However, she had a problem—a huge one. The ring was enchanted. As long as the soul of her archenemy was trapped inside it, the power draining spell she had prepared wouldn’t work. There were two ways around this. One, she could try another spell, one that would work on an enchanted object. But spells that could drain or absorb the power of a soul weren’t exactly plentiful. And only a select few could transfer that power into another person. Alti was fairly sure there were a few of those scattered amongst her many spell books, though she couldn’t remember if any of them would work on an enchanted object. The alternative was to move Xena’s soul out of the ring and into another vessel. That would be easier since those kinds of spells were fairly commonplace. In a perfect world, that would be her best bet.

Unfortunately, nothing in her current situation was ideal, much less perfect. The ring, though enchanted with a spell of containment, was never meant to hold a human soul. That didn’t mean it couldn’t. The truth was, Alti didn’t know for sure. There was a chance, however minute, that her archenemy could break free at any moment. It was a pity she’d spilled all the infused grapeseed oil, otherwise she could pour it over the ring and seal Xena’s soul within. Making a new batch of oil would take two weeks, time she didn’t have.

There was another option, one that didn’t require any preparation whatsoever—the tree of amber in the temple of Chia. The djinn could bring her the amber, but it meant she would have to take off the ring. Without the ring, she could not call on the djinn. And since she had no power of her own here, it would greatly limit what she would be able to do.

Alti couldn’t afford to take off the ring. She needed the djinn, so she decided to roll the dice and hope her arch-nemesis wouldn’t find a way to escape before she could get a suitable spell ready. Her mind made up, she went over to the table and rummaged through the spell books. She finally picked out one that specialised in spells involving the darker arts. She cleared a space at the table then sat down to look through it.

***

“Alti couldn’t travel back in time, so she had to rely on you to change the past for her,” Xena said, thinking out loud.

“Well… Yes, and no. You see, it’s not that straightforward. I’m free to travel through time however I please. But I can only do so as an observer. I cannot interfere in the past or the future, much less change it willy-nilly. I explained this to the witch. As it turns out, I was from the timeline she wanted to change.”

To Xena, that was not so much a quirk of fate as it was a fortuitous coincidence—unless her old nemesis had planned it all out from the start. But it seemed highly unlikely that Alti would have known that this particular djinn would appear at the siege of Constantinople, much less be at the right place at the right time to capture him. Xena wanted to ask the djinn about it, but she didn’t get a chance to before he continued on.

“You and your partner travelled into the future and defeated her there. I was to stop you from doing so. The witch believed the best way to do that was to separate you from your partner.”

“That was when Najara entered the picture,” Xena said.

The djinn nodded. “She was supposed to seduce your partner. She almost succeeded too.”

It was true. Najara had won Gabrielle over from the very start. She was everything the bard ever wanted, and everything Xena could never be.

However, it was hard to say if Gabrielle would have truly left her for Najara, since the warrior had pre-emptively made that decision for everyone. That was until Xena had learned that it was all an act, and that the real Najara was a zealot who couldn’t be trusted with a loaf of bread, much less with the woman she loved.

Xena could have argued the point, but this wasn’t a popularity contest. And it was all water under the bridge. She had a more pressing question on her mind. “Why didn’t you make another attempt to stop us before we left for India?”

“How do you know we didn’t?”

“Did you?”

The djinn seemed to deflate as he let out a hefty sigh. “No.”

Considering Alti’s goal, it would have made sense to stop the soulmates from going to India in the first place. But the djinn just admitted they hadn’t even tried. “Why didn’t you?”

“Let me tell you a story,” the djinn began. “In my homeland, there are many folklores being passed down from generation to generation about the djinn. Some of them are true. Most of them are not. In these folklores, the djinn are said to be spirits of smoke that can take on any form they desire and possess animals and humans alike. Legend has it, that if a human was able to trap a djinn in a receptacle, the djinn would be forced to grant him three wishes.”

The djinn held up a finger. “Before you ask, none of that is true. However, stories would later emerge about a human finding a djinn trapped within a lamp. Depending on which version you hear, the human was either granted immense wealth or property by the djinn. Because of these stories, humans started to believe that the djinn had magical powers not unlike a god.”

“I’m guessing Alti believed the stories,” Xena said.

“Yes, until I disabused her of the notion. As I told you, we djinn are elementals. We are not limited by time and space since we can go anywhere that fire exists. If there is a flame, we can become that flame. The only form we can assume other than what you see now, is—fire. We do not have the power to control others or possess them and make them do what we want. We can, however, speak to the minds of those who are sensitive to the spirit world.”

“Najara seems to do whatever you want her to,” Xena pointed out.

“Najara is different. She was a young child when we first met. Her family had abandoned her out in the wilderness and left her for dead. We took pity on her and led her to the nearest human settlement where she was adopted by a childless couple. In the beginning, we viewed her as a curiosity and would visit her regularly. We were her friends and her playmates. As she grew older, she came to see us as her spiritual guides. She’s the only human I have direct influence over. When you handed her to the authorities, my resources became infinitely more limited.”

Xena doubted the djinn was as powerless as he was trying to make himself out to be. “You were able to bring Gabrielle here from Byzantium. I’m sure you could have gotten Najara out of the prison at any time and sent her after us.”

“That’s actually not true,” the djinn said. “Do you know where you are now?”

Xena frowned, unsure what the djinn was getting at. “The ring?”

“We’re in an extradimensional plane,” the djinn corrected her.

“A what?”

“Think of it as another world, parallel but separate from the world you live in.”

“You mean like the spiritual realm?” Xena asked.

“Yes, exactly like that. It’s where we djinn live. It’s home. And because it is home, there is a dimensional gateway we can use to bring humans in. But we cannot bring that human with us when we travel, nor can we teleport them from one place to another. When a human leaves our home, they return to where they were before they came here. Think of it as a two-way portal.”

Unlike a one-way portal which didn’t allow a person to return the way they came, a two-way portal essentially functioned like a door. Or in this case, a gateway. If she could find that gateway, she could return to Byzantium. On second thought, it might not work for her, since she had come from the dream passage. But it would work for Gabrielle. “Where is this dimensional gateway?” she asked.

“The only way to leave here is if a djinn sends you back. Or you could always return the way you came,” the djinn said, looking at the warrior slyly.

It was obvious the djinn had no intention of telling her, so Xena returned to the question she’d asked before the djinn had gone off on this little tangent. “You haven’t answered my question,” she said. “Even if you didn’t have Najara, you could have stopped us yourself.”

“What was I supposed to do?” the djinn asked. “The Creator god has forbidden us from hurting or harming humans directly. It’s not like you would have listened if I’d asked you to turn back.”

“If that’s the case, why did you send Najara after us when we returned from India?”

“Remember the three wishes in those folklores?” the djinn asked.

Xena nodded.

“It turns out those legends had some basis in reality. This ring grants its wearer three wishes. For her second wish, the witch wanted to make another attempt to separate you from your partner. She believed you would stray from your current course without your partner’s influence. And that would put your next reincarnation in jeopardy.”

“If I wasn’t reincarnated as Arminestra, then there would be no one to stop her.”

“Exactly. It would negate the victory you achieved in India, and the witch would get her wish,” the djinn said.

***

Alti was an agent of chaos, and had been in all of her previous lives, at least those that she could remember. Part of that meant taking advantage of openings and opportunities as they presented themselves. All that to say—meticulous planning wasn’t her strong suit. She was better at issuing orders or manipulating others and letting them sort out the nitty-gritty details by themselves.

For the most part, that approach had served her well. And that was what she had gone with when she’d first embarked on this mission to reverse the course of her destiny. After all, there wasn’t much she could do when she was forced to watch everything unfold from her own timeline, more than 14 centuries into the future. But after the first two attempts failed, Alti decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. The ring only gave her three bites of the apple. That left her with one final chance. She had to get it right or doom herself forever to an ignominious end.

When her archenemy went missing for twenty-five years and was presumed dead, she thought that was the end of it. She would not get another chance to correct the course of her destiny. But Alti couldn’t let it go. She had come so far. Surely the fates wouldn’t be so cruel. She worked on a new plan, waiting for the day when her archenemy would inevitably resurface.

The extradimensional plane of the djinn existed outside space and time, though it wasn’t completely free from the constraints and influence of the latter. Time passed the same way within the plane as it did without. In that sense, it would seem that the home plane of the djinn existed in lockstep with the world humans lived in. But that wasn’t technically true. The human world was locked into a specific timeline. The home plane of the djinn wasn’t. That meant humans from different timelines could physically meet and interact within the extradimensional plane without endangering their own reality, so long as they didn’t share the same soul.

That was what Alti wanted more than anything—to get up close and personal with her arch-nemesis, like in the old days. It would give her the opportunity to do what she’d failed to accomplish in her reincarnation as Khindin. If she could make Xena’s powers her own, she could reclaim everything she’d lost in the centuries since her defeat in India. She would become a force to be reckoned with. People will tremble at the mention of her name, and the world would kneel at her feet. She would be known not only as the Destroyer of Nations, but the Destroyer of Souls as well.

Alti had always had an insatiable desire for power. It had driven her when she’d first met Xena. And it continued to drive her to this day. When she’d been Alti, she’d used her knowledge of shamanism to hold on to her powers after death. But being dead meant that she had no power or influence outside the spiritual realm, and she was desperate to return to the land of the living. She stole the soul of Xena’s baby, hoping to replace it with her own. When that attempt failed, she found herself trapped within her own grave by a shamanic ritual she had once taught the warrior. And she might be there still, if Caesar hadn’t found a way to change his fate, and in the process, freed her soul from its decades-long confinement.

While that alternate world was ultimately destroyed, her soul remained free. She was eventually able to get her soul reincarnated and even retained her ability to feed on human souls. As luck would have it, she was reborn in India, where the souls contained generations of power, accumulated throughout the course of multiple lifetimes. India was a veritable treasure trove of power. Left to her own devices, she did not doubt she could have amassed a thousand times more power as Khindin than she ever had as Alti. But Xena had intervened, as always, and all of that potential had died with Khindin’s death.

After that, things had gone steadily downhill. With each reincarnation, she’d lost more of her powers, until she eventually lost everything, including her ability to feed off of human souls and emotions. But Alti never gave up trying to reclaim what she believed had been stolen from her in India. It wasn’t until a little over thirty years ago, that she’d stumbled upon an ageing wizard who had in his possession an artefact of some renown—a ring of containment.

Alti had heard stories about that ring many centuries before, in one of her other lifetimes. So, when she overheard the wizard talking about a ring that could imprison the djinn and grant its wearer unimaginable wealth, she knew she had to get her hands on it. She approached the wizard, under the guise of a paid apprenticeship, and used the opportunity to learn the intricacies of the dark arts while she tried to find out more about the ring. It turned out to be much easier than expected. The ring was the wizard’s pride and joy, and he would talk about it at every opportunity he got. It wasn’t long before Alti had learned everything she needed to about the ring, and the wizard became more of a nuisance than an asset.

She hatched a plan to kill the wizard and steal his powers. However, she had greatly overestimated her own abilities. She did not yet possess the necessary understanding of the arts, or the skill level to effectively cast the spell. In the end, the wizard had died, and his powers had died with him. But Alti did take possession of the ring. And when she stumbled across a djinn in the middle of the siege of Constantinople, it was as if the fates and all the constellations in the sky were finally on her side. That was until she realised the djinn weren’t all they were made out to be, and that the tales of their powers were greatly exaggerated.

When Alti had first started on this quest, she’d been young and brash, and her knowledge of the dark arts had been surface-level at best. Now, nearly three decades later, she was approaching her fiftieth year, and she’d finally mastered her craft—at least as much as she was able to without a true mentor. However, a witch was only as good as her spell books. She couldn’t cast a spell she didn’t know. And after looking through every single spell book in her possession, she could not find one that would allow her to absorb her archenemy’s powers directly from the ring of containment.

That meant she would need to transfer Xena’s soul to a more suitable vessel. She needed a spell that would not require weeks to prepare. Alti stared at the spell books she’d thrown haphazardly across the table and belatedly realised she should have made a note of the spells when she’d come across them earlier. Then again, she had never been particularly organised, and it had not crossed her mind to do so. She would have to go through all the spell books again.

Alti removed the spectacles she’d been using, rubbed at the bridge of her nose where they had been clamped onto, and closed her eyes wearily.

I’m getting too old for this, she thought. At least it would be over soon—one way, or another.

***

“It’s been twenty-eight years since the second attempt. I cannot imagine Alti waiting that long to try again,” Xena said.

“You need to remember the circumstances. Your death in Rome and your subsequent resurrection attracted the attention of multiple gods. It would have been foolish to make any further attempts with the gods watching you. The witch wanted to stay away until the coast was clear. But that opportunity never materialised. Before we knew it, the entire Greek pantheon was after you. Not long after that, you and your partner disappeared, and there were rumours that both of you had been killed by the Greek gods.”

“It wasn’t until decades later that you resurfaced, alive and well,” the djinn continued. “Then you went to war against the Olympians. And despite the overwhelming odds, you won. The witch didn’t want to risk going up against you while you had the ability to kill gods. By the time she was ready to execute her plan, you had gone off to Jappa and gotten yourself killed. When we found out you were in Chin—alive, the witch decided it was time to try again. Your return to Greece gave us the opportunity we had been waiting for.”

If everything the djinn said up to now was true, then nothing about this final attempt of Alti’s made any sense. The djinn could have used the dimensional gateway to bring Xena to his home plane from any part of the world at any point in time. He could have done that while she was in Chin, instead of waiting for them to return to Greece. Xena had spent much of her time in Chin within the territory of the Southern Forest clan, which was shielded against teleportation magic. But the djinn had admitted he had her under surveillance, so he could have easily acted on those occasions when she had left the clan territory. Also, why even abduct Gabrielle in the first place? Something wasn’t adding up.

“You could have taken me the same way you took Gabrielle. Why go through the trouble of taking her just to lure me here?” Xena asked.

“It would definitely be easier,” the djinn agreed. “If you were an inert object, or an ordinary human, I would have done so. But you are currently at the peak of your powers. I wouldn’t have been able to bring you through the dimensional gateway without your consent, And I doubt you would have come willingly. By taking your partner, I was sure you would find your way here eventually, given your resourcefulness. Though I wasn’t expecting you to arrive quite so soon.”

“It couldn’t have been that much of a surprise,” Xena said. “Alti was waiting for me.”

“The witch has been preparing for this moment for months. She made sure everything was ready and in place before I even sent Najara out to take your partner. Of course, she would be waiting. But for all of her preparation, you still managed to take her by surprise. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here in this ring, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“This wasn’t part of the plan?” Xena asked.

The djinn shook his head. “I mentioned earlier that this ring was created specifically to trap the djinn. If you think about it, we djinn do not have souls. Which means the ring and its spell of containment doesn’t work on souls.”

“So, it cannot hold me,” Xena mused. She looked at the walls surrounding her with a fresh set of eyes. Maybe they weren’t as solid as they appeared to be. That was when she remembered it had been the djinn who had warned her away from the walls earlier. She turned back to the djinn, regarding him suspiciously. “You could’ve mentioned this earlier. Are you helping Alti stall for time?”

“No, I simply wanted your undivided attention. If I had mentioned it earlier, you would not have listened to anything else I had to say. Changing history has consequences. I hope I’ve made that clear.”

“Are you telling me I cannot kill Alti?”

“It doesn’t matter if you kill her or if you let her live. But that is not to say there won’t be any limitations on the choices you can make moving forward.”

“What exactly are you saying?” Xena asked.

“Whether you like it or not, the witch is now a part of your past. When this is all over, you’ll need to be careful about any decisions you make regarding the witch in this timeline. It would be best if you choose to leave things as they currently stand. However, should you decide to make a change, know that it could alter the trajectory of your life and your partner’s life completely.”

“Let me give you an example”, the djinn said. “Say you decide to stop the witch from being reborn, and you succeed in doing so. This future version of the witch would not exist. And the events she put in motion would not have happened. In all likelihood, you would not have met Najara, and everything that came after might not have happened the way they did, or they might not have happened at all.”

Xena mulled this information over. She liked the life she had right now. Even though it wasn’t perfect, and there were things she wished she could’ve changed, she understood that their life was what it was because of everything that had happened before. Changing any one thing, no matter how small, would inevitably change everything. And if it meant not returning to Alti’s grave site and performing the burial ritual a second time, then so be it. She could deal with facing her old nemesis in her next lifetime, and however many lifetimes after that. As long as she had Gabrielle, it didn’t really matter.

“I understand,” Xena said. “Anything else you wanna say?”

“Well… I would appreciate it if you could free me from this ring.”

“Why should I?”

“Najara will die without me.”

“You think I care? She’s been nothing but a thorn in my side. And you’re the reason Gabrielle and I are trapped here.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” the djinn reminded her. “And you don’t really think that. I’ve studied you and your partner for years. And I’ve followed your exploits from afar. Contrary to the tough and uncaring persona you present to the outside world, you are actually a kind and deeply compassionate person. It is one of your greatest strengths.”

Xena quirked an eyebrow at the djinn. “Flattery doesn’t work on me.”

“It was worth a try,” the djinn said with a self-deprecating shrug.

But Xena was no longer listening. She had mentally checked out of the conversation, her attention intent on the wall nearest to her. It was a darker hue than the rest, nearly opaque. She approached the wall. It was cool to the touch, its texture smooth, pretty much how she had expected the inside of a ruby to feel like. She pushed against the wall, hard. It didn’t budge.

Satisfied, Xena moved to the opposite wall. This one was a brighter red, and she could see indistinct shapes on the other side. It also felt different from the first wall. It was warm, and the surface rippled at her touch. When she pushed against the wall, it pushed back. Xena made a note of this and repeated the experiment with the other two walls. Though of a brighter hue and warm like the second wall, these were solid to the touch and had no give in them.

Xena returned to that second wall, watching it ripple around her hand briefly before turning to the djinn. “You might want to stand back.”

The djinn guessed her intention immediately. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You have a better one?”

The djinn shook his head and moved out of the way.

Xena took five long strides back, then checked the distance to the wall, changing her position accordingly to adjust for the short run-up. Once she was satisfied, she turned to the djinn to deliver one final word of advice, “Najara deserves better.”

She assumed a staggered stance, right leg forward and left leg back, before exploding into motion, her arms and legs pumping furiously as she picked up speed. On her third and final step, she shortened her stride before launching herself into the air, and straight at the wall—feet first.

***

Gabrielle was slumped against the bars of her jail cell, her legs tucked under her. Her mind kept going over the events of that day, from the moment she’d been ambushed on the streets of Byzantium to the moment Xena had fallen lifelessly to the floor before her eyes. A voice, one Gabrielle recognised as her own, clamoured in the background, growing louder with each repetition, until it was practically screaming in her head. It was so loud and so insistent that it crowded out all other thoughts.

You should’ve been paying attention! If you were, Najara would not have gotten the drop on you. You’re the weak link in this partnership. They used you to get to Xena. If it weren’t for you, none of this would have happened. When you first met her, she was a warrior—fierce, strong, and unbeatable. But you tamed her and made her soft with all your talk of love and ending the cycle of hate. See how well that turned out. Alti’s going to destroy her soul. Then she’ll come for you. Your child will never see the light of day. And you’ll never see Xena again. Not in this life, or the next. And it’s all because of you!

The voice was unrelenting, detailing each one of her many faults and failures, again and again until Gabrielle had enough. She pressed her hands firmly over her ears, as if she could somehow silence the voice in her head by doing so. It didn’t work. Instead, it grew more insistent. Unable to take it any more, she squeezed her eyes shut and screamed at the top of her voice.

That scream echoed around her in every direction, bouncing off the walls, the floors, and the ceiling, until it sounded as if there were a hundred of her screaming all at the same time. Alone, it would have been nothing more than a futile gesture. But with a hundred Gabrielles joining in, it was loud enough to finally drown out the voice. Once the echoes faded away, silence rushed in to fill the void. But this time, instead of an endless litany of self-recrimination, it brought with it an oasis of calm.

Gabrielle lowered her hands to her lap, finally noticing her legs had fallen asleep. She grabbed hold of the bars and shifted her position gingerly, wincing as the tingling in her legs swiftly gave way to the feeling of pins-and-needles. As she stretched her legs out before her, she couldn’t help but admire the defined musculature of her calves and thighs. They were a testament to the years of hard work she’d put in under Xena’s watchful eye, and of the long arduous road she had travelled to get here.

She was a warrior. Unless there was a huge size or skill disparity, she could often hold her own. When a fight was inevitable, she would stand her ground alongside her long-time partner and soulmate, ready to fight to the death. And yet, here she sat, defeated before any real blows had been exchanged—not by the enemy, but by the intrusive thoughts in her own mind—brought on by her own fears.

When she was young and fearless, she could roll with the punches like the best of them. No matter what the setback, or the circumstances, she would bounce back stronger and better than before. But it wasn’t as easy to do the same when it came to losing people she genuinely cared about. The first time she’d truly struggled, was when Perdicus died in her arms. They had grown up together. He had been her fiancé and later her husband. She had loved him. His death broke something in her, and Gabrielle might never have recovered from that traumatic experience if Xena hadn’t been there to show her the way back.

A few short months later, Gabrielle had lost Xena when the warrior succumbed to her grievous internal injuries. She’d been inconsolable, grieving long and hard for many days until Iolaus and Ephiny helped her move past her grief. Ambrosia would later bring Xena back from the dead. But that was only the beginning. Within a year, she would go on to mourn the death of her own daughter—the daughter who’d killed Xena’s son, Solon, and whom she would poison with her own two hands. As the deaths and the losses started piling up, Gabrielle stopped being the carefree young girl she used to be. She had learned fear, fear of losing the people she loved, especially the one true constant in her life—Xena.

When she left Jappa with Xena’s ashes in an urn, Gabrielle had been a ship adrift in a turbulent ocean. She didn’t know what to do with herself, where to go, or how she was supposed to carry on without her best friend and the keeper of her heart and soul. Then there had been the yawning emptiness she’d felt in Chin, when she thought she’d lost the other half of her soul forever. Gabrielle didn’t want to experience either feeling ever again. That was the real reason she continued to struggle, despite having supposedly worked through all of her recent trauma. It was also why she continued to be triggered by every perceived threat to Xena, whether real or imagined.

C’mon Gabrielle. I’ll catch you. Trust me. As long as I’m here, I won’t let you fall.

The voice of her soulmate snapped Gabrielle out of her dark thoughts. Xena? she called out telepathically.

But it wasn’t her soulmate, at least not in the here and now. It was a memory, from a long time ago, back when Gabrielle was learning how to somersault. She’d landed awkwardly on one of her solo attempts, falling and hitting her head in the process. After that, she’d stopped trying altogether. Xena had coaxed her into giving it another try, standing by patiently as Gabrielle tried to summon up the courage to launch herself into the air.

‘I trust you,’ Gabrielle had said back then. She’d attempted the somersault. But one of her legs cramped up at the very last moment, and her leap turned into an awkward-looking spasm. She should have landed face down on the ground, but Xena had caught her, just as she had promised she would.

Trust me.

“I trust you,” Gabrielle said to the Xena of yesteryear. But as she uttered those three simple words, she came to a startling realisation—she no longer trusted the warrior, not in the way she used to, and not in the way it truly mattered. And that, she realised, was the crux of the matter.

The events of Jappa had shattered her trust in Xena. The warrior had outright lied, sending Gabrielle off on a wild goose chase while she took on the combined armies of Yodoshi and got herself killed. It would have been one thing if her death had been an accident. But it wasn’t. Xena had planned the whole thing, from start to finish. Then the warrior had gone one step further and stopped Gabrielle from sprinkling her ashes into the Fountain of Strength, effectively dashing any hope the bard had of bringing the warrior back to life.

That betrayal had hurt. However, Gabrielle hadn’t allowed herself to admit how much it had hurt her until now. She knew why Xena had done it. Her soulmate had been protecting her. But knowing is not the same as understanding. She didn’t understand why Xena hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her the truth, or why her soulmate had ultimately chosen Akemi over her.

No, Gabrielle mentally corrected herself. It hadn’t been Akemi that Xena had chosen over her, it had been the souls of the 40,000 people who’d lost their lives at Higuchi all those years ago.

Trust me.

A tear rolled down her cheek. “I can’t. I’m sorry,” Gabrielle whispered.

In the silence that followed, a tiny voice spoke up from the hidden depths of her mind. If you don’t trust her, why did you agree to marry her?

“Because I… I love her.”

And because you know in your heart of hearts that Xena didn’t betray you. She was staying true to who she has always been—looking out for you and keeping you out of harm’s way. You know better than anyone what the outcome would have been if she’d told you the truth.

Gabrielle did know. It would’ve turned out exactly the way Xena had said it would—with both of them dead.

How long are you going to punish her for it? the voice continued. She has always been there for you—in heaven and in hell, in life and in death. You know that nothing could ever keep her from your side. It’s why you were so confident she would come for you. And yet, you say you cannot trust her. Who’s the one lying now?

***

Instead of rebounding upon impact, Xena’s momentum propelled her straight through the wall and into a gelatin-like substance. It didn’t slow her down much, but it felt like she was drowning in thick sludge, except without any of the accompanying mud and gunk. After what felt like a full minute but was probably closer to a few seconds, the ruby spat her out on the other side. She narrowly missed contact with Alti’s head as she rocketed past, her soul rapidly expanding back to its normal size. Her momentum slowed. By the time she came to a stop, she was up near the ceiling of what appeared to be a bedroom.

She barely noticed the four-poster bed though something about it nagged at the back of her mind. Below her sat Alti, surrounded by scores of books filled with strange looking markings and complex illustrations. It was a strange sight, to say the least, since the Alti she knew never had much time for books or learning of any kind.

There was an odd-looking gadget perched somewhat precariously on Alti’s nose as she peered down at the book she had in front of her. The gadget reminded Xena of a more compact version of the looking glass, though its purpose seemed geared more towards magnifying the words on a page than amplifying objects in the distance. Alti had probably brought it from the future, which suggested her eyesight wasn’t as sharp as it should have been, and she probably used the gadget on a regular basis when reading.

Xena waited for her old nemesis to look up, to notice her presence, but Alti continued her reading, pausing only to scribble down notes on a piece of paper. Curious, the warrior moved closer. The book was in Latin, and there were two spells written on the pages it was opened to. One was for turning a human into a frog; the other was for capturing souls.

Xena was pretty sure she knew which one had Alti’s undivided attention—and it wasn’t the frog spell. The notes, which were in Greek, seemed to further confirm her suspicions. On it, her old nemesis had jotted down six spells, all related to the binding or transfer of human souls in one way or another, along with the book title and the page on which it could be found. There were also a string of numbers next to each spell which Xena couldn’t make heads or tails of.

If Alti was resorting to spells, it meant she either didn’t have access to her abilities or she had lost them, just like Gabrielle suspected. Which would explain why she hadn’t noticed Xena’s presence thus far, and also why she was so dependent on the djinn. While powerful spells were a thing to be feared, they often required intense concentration. According to the spell book, and the notes, they also required a significant amount of preparation that could take days, if not months, or even years. In that sense, they were greatly inferior to the powers Alti had once wielded—powers which even Xena had been hard-pressed to overcome.

An inkling of a plan started to form in the warrior’s mind. But first, she needed to return to her body and free Gabrielle. She took one last look at Alti’s hands, taking note of the position of the ring—on the middle finger of the right hand—before heading for the door. It was not locked, and there were no visible locking mechanisms in sight. Xena nodded in satisfaction and reached for the door. As expected, her hand passed through the solid wood without any resistance. She walked right through it.

Out in the hallway, there were no special identifying features that set the room or the door apart from the others, so she wandered around, memorising every turn she took until she reached the spiral staircase. There were three landings above her. That would make this the second floor. She filed that information away for later and headed down the flight of stairs to the ground floor. From there, it was a simple matter of retracing her steps to the entrance of the basement. But this time, she stopped short. Because etched into the stone floor right in front of the first set of steps, was a line of glowing symbols she hadn’t noticed before.

The symbols were placed in such a manner that anyone entering the basement would be sure to step on them. Xena was not familiar with the symbols, but she was proficient in the art of setting and disarming traps. The placement of the symbols reminded her of the trip wires that were often placed at entrances to warn of an intruder. Instead of bells that rung when the wire was disturbed, stepping on the symbols would likely trigger a magical warning of some kind. She was sure this was what had alerted Alti when she passed this way earlier.

Xena didn’t know if she would trigger the trap in her current state. She considered leaping over the symbols or floating over them to bypass the alert. But even though the symbols were etched into the floor, their glow extended all the way up, like an impenetrable wall of light. She decided it would be better to err on the side of caution and find a way into the basement that would avoid the symbols altogether. After all, she was incorporeal. She could easily pass through walls and floors. However, where there was one, there was likely to be another. If Xena was a betting woman, which she was, she would bet a gold aureus there were more of these symbols inside the dungeon.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t see through the walls or floor. She wouldn’t know which areas to avoid, and which were safe. But as the thought crossed her mind, Xena realised she knew of one place in the dungeon where there wouldn’t be any wards—the cell Gabrielle was in. And Xena knew exactly how to get there. She just needed to follow her soul-link to where her soulmate was, then simply pass through the floor and into the basement.

***

Gabrielle closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. She thought she had it all figured out, that her fears and insecurities were because of her doubts over Xena. But that wasn’t it at all. This second voice was absolutely right. What happened in Jappa wasn’t an aberration, nor was it a betrayal. Yes, Xena had lied to her, but her soulmate had her reasons for doing so, mainly to stop Gabrielle from doing something stupid that she would regret in time. And if things had turned out differently, she would have forgiven the warrior—not immediately, but eventually.

Despite Jappa and everything that had happened in the months since then, Gabrielle did trust Xena—implicitly. It was the reason she never doubted her soulmate would come for her, and the reason she’d agreed to marry the warrior. She’d been wrong earlier. It wasn’t Xena she didn’t trust, it was everything and everyone else. Ever since their first meeting, the world, the gods, and the fates had been conspiring to tear them apart. Somehow, they had overcome it all, and their relationship had grown stronger as a result of their many tribulations. But Gabrielle always felt as if she was constantly looking over her shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Now that she was in the second trimester of her pregnancy, Gabrielle was very much looking forward to meeting her child for the first time. She wanted Xena there by her side when that happened. Together, they would celebrate all the important milestones of their child. They would grow old together, and watch proudly as their child became a parent in their own right. They might even become grandparents. That was what Gabrielle had dreamt of when she held baby Eve in her arms for the first time. But Ares and the Olympians had robbed her of that dream. And she was afraid history would repeat itself.

But sitting on her derrière all this time feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to turn those dreams into reality. She needed to pull herself together, if not for her, then for her child, and for Xena. Gabrielle reached out to touch her soulmate, more for reassurance than for any practical reason. She glanced over at the warrior’s inert form. That was when she remembered her soulmate had been reaching for something in between her breasts when Alti had suddenly appeared.

She was aware the warrior often stored items within her cleavage. For a while, one of those items was a breast dagger Gabrielle had bought for her own use. The warrior had promptly confiscated and appropriated it for herself. Xena no longer had that dagger, but there might be something else secreted within that might be of use. Gabrielle took hold of Xena’s pauldron, the only thing she could get a grip on, and tried to drag the warrior closer. It was slow going, but it became easier once she was able to switch her grip to the strap of Xena’s battledress.

“Sorry,” Gabrielle muttered reflexively as her soulmate’s head bumped none too gently against the bars of her cell. “I need to do this. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

She slipped her middle and index fingers in between the warrior’s breasts and pulled out the first thing they encountered. It was a ring—a ring she was very familiar with, given that she’d slept an entire year away holding on to it.

Gabrielle furrowed her brow. “Didn’t Xena return this to the Rhein Maidens? What is it doing here? Never mind. I’ll deal with this later.”

Knowing better than to put the ring on, Gabrielle set it off to the side, then reached into her soulmate’s cleavage once again. Her eyes lit up as her fingers emerged with a set of lock picks. “Now we’re talking.”

With the lock picks in hand, Gabrielle headed over to the cell door and inserted one of the lock picks into the keyhole. She jiggled it around, trying to turn the lock, but was unsuccessful. So, she tried another. When that too failed, she peered into the keyhole to figure out which lock pick she should use next.

“It’ll be easier to do it from this side.”

Startled by the voice, Gabrielle jumped back from the door to find her soulmate looking at her from the other side of the bars. “Xena, is that really you?”

“In the flesh. C’mon, give it here,” Xena said, holding out her hand for the lock picks.

Gabrielle gladly handed it over. “I thought… How did you…”

“Later. Let’s get you out of here first.” Xena bent down so that her eye was level with the keyhole. She then separated a lock pick from the others and inserted it into the lock. Once she was satisfied it was in the correct place, she turned it, and the door bolt slid back with a loud thunk. She pulled the cell door open for her soulmate and replaced the lock picks in their original hiding place.

“Thanks,” Gabrielle said. She reached down to pick up the ring before stepping out into the corridor.

This caught Xena’s attention, and she asked, “What’s that?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Gabrielle said, bringing the ring up so that the warrior could see it clearly. “I found it in the same place as the lock picks.”

“Wasn’t expecting that,” Xena said with a frown.

“You can tell me all about it once we get out of here.” Gabrielle wrapped her fingers around the ring and made to move past her soulmate.

The warrior stopped her, shaking her head in warning. “There are wards. If we leave, Alti will know.”

Gabrielle stared at the area her soulmate had indicated, turning her head from side to side. “I don’t see anything.”

“Trust me. It’s there.” Xena had noticed the wards the moment she’d passed through the ceiling of Gabrielle’s cell. They were the same symbols she’d seen at the entrance to the basement. However, once she returned to her body, she could no longer see them, which would explain why she hadn’t noticed them before.

“So, we’re stuck here?”

“Until we come up with a plan.”

“Okay. Why don’t we start with this?” Gabrielle said, opening her hand to reveal the Rheingold ring.

***

Xena made to take the ring from her, but Gabrielle closed her hand tight and pulled it out of reach. “Nuh-uh,” she said. “I’m not giving you the ring until you promise me you won’t put it on.”

“C’mon, Gabrielle. I have no reason to.”

“No. Promise me,” Gabrielle insisted. “I’ll feel better.”

Given what had happened the last time she’d put on the ring, Xena could understand her partner’s reluctance to hand it over. “Alright, I promise.” She put her hand out, palm up.

After a moment of hesitation, Gabrielle placed the ring in the warrior’s outstretched hand.

Xena held the ring up to the light. This was not the ring she’d forged from the Rheingold back when she was a Valkyrie. Of that, there could be no doubt. But the resemblance was uncanny, right down to the scratch on the inside of the band, where Grinhilda’s arrow had grazed it. This ring had been given to her in the dream passage as part of a test, and she had expected it to dissolve back into nothingness once it had fulfilled its purpose. And yet, it had somehow survived the transition out of the dream passage and into the extradimensional plane of the djinn. Did that mean they were still inside the dreamscape? Or was the ring not at all what it seemed?

The ring of Morpheus. Put it on, and it’ll transport you into the dream passage. In case you need help getting back, the consciousness that had once been her doppelgänger whispered inside her head.

The god of dreams had been pretty adamant he didn’t owe the soulmates anything, which was why this revelation was so surprising. Why does it look like my ring? Xena asked her doppelgänger.

It’s made from dreams. It can take on any appearance you want, her doppelgänger replied. Like this.

The ring in Xena’s hand morphed into a completely new shape.

Gabrielle, who had been staring at the ring all this while, was the first to notice the change. “That’s the ring Alti was wearing!” she exclaimed.

It was indeed Alti’s ring. Or at least, it appeared that way. Xena pictured it returning to its original form, and it did so readily enough.

“Now it’s your ring again. Xena, what’s going on?” Gabrielle asked, utterly confused.

“It’s an illusion,” Xena explained, going on to summarise everything her doppelgänger had said about the ring. “It was given to me in the dream passage.”

“The dream passage? No wonder you got here so fast. I don’t remember Morpheus being so helpful when I was chosen to be his bride.”

A plan was starting to crystallise in Xena’s mind. The same one that had struck her while she’d been watching Alti—but with a twist. “It can’t take both of us back to Byzantium, but it can still be useful,” Xena said, changing the ring’s appearance once more.

Gabrielle stared at the ruby-inlaid ring in the warrior’s hand. She didn’t need to be able to read minds to know what her soulmate was thinking. “You want to send Alti into the dream passage?” she asked.

Xena nodded.

“To let her past demons determine her fate?”

Xena nodded again. “The same way Elkton let Manus’ past demons determine his fate. She could be trapped in the dream passage forever. Or she could return to where she came from.”

“Either way, she’s going to be out of our hair. At least for a little while. I think I can live with that,” Gabrielle said. “But it’s not going to be easy convincing her that her ring is fake and ours is real.”

Xena had already given the matter some thought, having recognised the potential of the ring the moment her doppelgänger had first altered its appearance. “What if there is only one ring?”

Gabrielle’s forehead creased into a frown. She didn’t know what her soulmate meant by that.

“It’s all in the wrist,” Xena said, closing her fingers around the ring. She rolled her wrist in an exaggerated motion, then opened her fingers one by one. When they were all open, her hand was empty. The ring was gone. She’d used the trick before, most notably in Chin, where she’d swapped out Lao Ma’s Book of Wisdom with a fake.

“Xena, it’s one thing to make a ring disappear from your hand or plant a fake book inside a saddlebag. Alti’s bound to notice you replacing the ring on her finger with a fake.”

“Hey! Don’t knock it. I don’t see you doing it,” Xena said, seemingly affronted by the bard’s casual dismissal of her abilities.

“I would if you’d teach me,” Gabrielle shot back.

The two women glared at each other, identical scowls on their faces. But the scowl on Gabrielle’s face didn’t last long. Soon, she was grinning, then chuckling. When Xena finally joined in, Gabrielle’s laughter ratcheted up another notch. She laughed so hard her stomach hurt.

“You should have seen your face,” Gabrielle said, holding her stomach.

“I wasn’t the one who started it,” Xena said.

Once she’d gotten the laughter out of her system, Gabrielle felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted off of her. “Aphrodite on a tree stump, that felt good. But seriously, how do you plan on switching the rings?”

“We take it from her,” Xena said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

Gabrielle nodded slowly. “And we do the old switcheroo.”

“That’s where you come in,” Xena said. “I’ll throw you the ring. You drop it.”

“Why am I the one who has to do it?” Gabrielle grumbled.

“If I drop the ring, Alti’s gonna smell a rat. You, she’ll believe.”

“Because I’m the bumbling sidekick. And you’re the hero who never puts a foot wrong,” Gabrielle groused.

“Gabrielle, you know that’s not true.”

“But I bet that’s what Alti thinks.”

Xena could not refute that, and she didn’t try to. She understood the point her soulmate was trying to make. “It’s not going to be easy though. You’ll need to really sell it.”

“So she doesn’t question why we’re returning the ring to her.”

“Exactly.”

“What if she doesn’t put it on?” Gabrielle asked.

“Oh, she will. You were right about Alti. She’s lost her abilities. The ring, and her spells, they are her only source of power in this place. Remember the djinn?”

Gabrielle did. “Najara’s spiritual guides?”

“They’re fire elementals. This is their home,” Xena said, indicating their surroundings. She told her soulmate about the djinn Alti had trapped, and how her old nemesis had used the ring’s three wishes to try to change their timeline.

“That explains Najara.” It also explained what the zealot had meant about having failed twice before. Gabrielle slammed her palm against the bars of her cell. “It was an act—from the very beginning. How did I not see it? How could I have fallen for it? She seemed so genuine…”

Xena grabbed Gabrielle’s wrist before she could assault the bars again, not out of any consideration for them, but because she didn’t want her partner to hurt herself. “I don’t think it was an act. Whatever the djinn told Najara, she truly believed it. She’s obsessed with you. That’s why she’s so convincing.”

“She wasn’t so convincing this time around,” Gabrielle said. “Speaking of Najara, what did you do to her?”

“I left her at the Asclepieion.” Xena did not elaborate further, and the bard did not ask.

Gabrielle cracked her knuckles, then shook her arms out. “Okay then. I’m ready. When are we doing this?”

“No time like the present.” Xena said. She tucked the ring away in her vambrace and strode purposefully towards the exit.

***

The air pulsed red three times in quick succession, causing Alti to look up from her spell book in surprise. It was the alert from one of the trigger spells in the dungeon.

Alti doubted Xena’s little blonde bitch had broken free from her jail cell by herself, which left only one other explanation—her arch-nemesis had escaped. This was the worst-case scenario. She’d barely decided on a spell, and she did not yet have it ready to go. The only spell she had at her disposal, was the power drain spell she’d originally intended to use. But that spell involved a multitude of steps and would take hours to cast. She couldn’t very well use it while the target in question was running free and actively trying to stop her.

Without any other spells to fall back on, Alti was no match for her archenemy. It would seem that her only option, was to use the ring again. But this time, she would need help to keep Xena trapped within, at least until she had time to get the ingredients for the soul transfer spell ready.

She raised her right hand and used her left to rub the band of her ring three times. A wisp of smoke emerged from the ruby and coalesced into the shape of a man wreathed in flames.

“You called?” the djinn said.

“Xena’s free. Get me amber from the temple of Chia.” Alti gave the djinn directions. “And be quick about it.”

The djinn placed his hand over his non-existent heart and dropped into a theatrical bow. “Your wish is my command,” he said before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

It made sense for Alti to stay in her room and wait for the djinn to return before confronting her archenemy. But by the time the djinn returned, Xena would be out of the dungeon and could be anywhere. She would have to waste time hunting her arch-nemesis down, and risk possibly walking into a trap herself. It would be best to strike now, and hopefully catch the warrior off guard.

The djinn had set up portals in the dungeon near the trigger spells, which would allow her to teleport over within an instant. However, she would have to do so blind since she had no visual of the dungeon. There were no further alerts from the trigger spells, which meant her archenemy was still within the dungeon, but not in the vicinity of the last cell. So that was where she would go. She opened the portal and stepped through it.

When she emerged on the other side, Alti immediately noticed the door to the cell was wide open. She looked to her left, and sure enough, Xena and her little slut were headed away from her. They were outside the ring’s range. She needed to get closer. She hurried after them, careful not to make any sound that might give her away.

But Alti might as well not have bothered, because the soulmates were actively listening out for her. They heard the busy swish-swish-swish of her many-layered skirts, and the quiet shh-shh-shh of her leather shoes on the marble floor as she hurried after them. When the soulmates determined she was close enough, they turned as one to face her.

Xena took a step forward, lashing out with the coiled whip she had ready in her hand. The razor-sharp tip of the whip sliced across Alti’s left cheek like a well-sharpened blade, and she involuntarily took a step back. She gingerly touched her hand to her face, wincing at the pain as she unwittingly brushed against the edges of the fresh cut. When she looked at her hand, there was blood on it—her blood. That angered her.

“You’ll pay for that,” Alti snarled at the warrior. She tried to bring her ring to bear, but another lash of the whip drove her back again. It was no good. As long as her arch-nemesis wielded the whip, she couldn’t get close enough to use the ring. But Alti had a trick up her sleeve—a cantrip that would bring any object immediately to her hand.

As she pointed the index and middle fingers of her right hand at the whip, her archenemy struck again. This time, the end of the whip wrapped unerringly around her middle finger, and before she could comprehend what was happening, the warrior had retracted the whip with a flick of her wrist, taking her ring with it. Alti watched in disbelief as her arch-nemesis threw her ring in the direction of the blonde bitch.

“Gabrielle, catch! Use the ring on Alti. I’ll keep her busy.”

Time seemed to slow down as the ring arced through the air. Alti felt as if she was watching her last and final chance slip away from her. Truly desperate now, she pointed her fingers at the ring and made a sweeping gesture towards her left hand. The cantrip worked. The ring deviated from its original path and flew through the air to land unerringly in her palm.

Xena and her little bitch were so shocked by this turn of events that they just stood there, staring at her like the imbeciles they were. Alti took full advantage of the moment, slipping the ring onto her finger, and pointing it at the biggest threat in the room—her archenemy. A smile crept onto her face as she uttered the words that would bind Xena’s soul to her ring, “Liga animam.”

Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next. The dungeon disappeared, replaced instead by a dark narrow hallway filled with thick fog. Alti reached for her ring to summon the djinn to get her out of there, but her finger was bare. The ring, her ring, was gone. It was then she realised she’d been duped. Her arch-nemesis had won—once again.

She threw her head back howling her anger and frustration into the darkness, “Xena!”

Her angry screams caused the fog to gather closer around her, until she could hardly see anything. Cold tendrils tickled her skin. They crept into her nose, and her mouth, choking the air out of her. Bright flashes of light went off in front of her eyes like fireworks, the periphery of her vision darkened, until all she could see was a sea of black. Just as she thought she was about to suffocate to death, the fog suddenly dissipated, and she came face to face with a woman she never thought she would see again.

This woman was dressed in the manner of the Northern Amazons, her platinum blonde hair held down by the distinctive headband of a shamaness. Her arms were crossed defiantly in front of her chest, and the hilt of a sword could be seen peeking out from over her right shoulder. There were intricate carvings all over the hilt, marking it out as a ritual sword, one that only a fully-fledged shamaness was allowed to carry.

“Alti, I’ve been waiting for you. It’s time you paid for what you did to the Amazons,” the woman said without any preamble.

“Cyane,” Alti greeted the woman quietly. Technically, it was Xena who had killed the woman and wiped out the Amazon tribe. But the warrior had only done so at Alti’s behest. And now, this long-dead woman was here to collect on that debt.

“That’s Queen Cyane to you. I’ll show you what it truly means to be a shamaness of the Northern Amazons,” the woman said, reaching up to grab the hilt of her sword.

***

“That went well,” Xena observed drily as she coiled up her whip and returned it to its customary spot on her belt.

Gabrielle nodded in agreement. “I didn’t even have to do a thing. She practically snatched it from me. You have the ring?”

“Sure do.” Xena practically crowed as she pulled the ring out of her vambrace and showed it to her companion.

“I didn’t see you make the switch.”

Xena beamed proudly. “It’s all in the wrist, Gabrielle, all in the wrist.”

Gabrielle rolled her eyes exaggeratedly at the warrior. “Yeah, yeah. Stop patting yourself on the back already. What’re we going to do with it?”

“What do you think we should do?” Xena asked instead.

The question took Gabrielle by surprise. She’d expected her soulmate to already have the answer. “Don’t you know what you’re going to do with it? Why are you asking me?”

“You’re not my sidekick, Gabrielle, you’re my partner. Of course, I want to hear your opinion.”

Gabrielle broke into a huge grin, her nose crinkling adorably in the process. “Xena, you say the sweetest things. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you were trying to get me in bed with you.”

Xena quirked an eyebrow at the bard, a knowing smirk on her face. “Do you ever think about anything other than sex?”

“Actually, yes—food. Now that I think about it, I’m kinda starving.”

“Food. Right, how could I have forgotten?” Xena pulled out the bread and cheese she’d purchased from the tavern for this specific purpose, and handed it over.

There wasn’t any olive oil to make the bread more palatable, but Gabrielle couldn’t have cared less. It’d been hours since she’d last ate, and she fell on the bread and cheese ravenously.

Xena shook her head at the sheer ferocity with which her soulmate devoured the food, polishing off every bit of it within a few short minutes. Her own stomach grumbled silently, reminding her that lunch was long overdue, and her liquid diet of cold ale was not cutting it.

“Any more where that came from?” Gabrielle asked hopefully, brushing stray crumbs off of her top.

“’Fraid not. You’ll have to wait ‘til we get back to town.” Xena noticed a bit of cheese clinging to the corner of the bard’s mouth. “Hold on.” She used the pad of her thumb to gently brush it off. “Alright, you’re all good now.”

“Thanks.” Gabrielle looked up at the warrior slightly misty-eyed, suddenly ashamed of how eager she’d been to place all the blame for her struggles on her soulmate earlier. “What would I ever do without you?”

Xena smiled and caressed her partner’s cheek tenderly. “You’d do just fine.”

Gabrielle’s lips quivered at the warrior’s touch, and she found herself struggling to hold back tears. Before she could get a hold of herself, a tear escaped from the corner of her eye, rolling down her cheek before Xena’s thumb intercepted it.

“It’s alright, Gabrielle. Everything’s gonna be alright,” Xena said soothingly as she wrapped her arms around the bard and held her close.

This was something Xena had done a hundred times before, likely more, but the message was always the same. It was the warrior’s way of saying ‘I’ve got you. I’ll protect you, and I’ll keep you safe. With me around, you’ll never have to fear.’ And Gabrielle had to admit, it worked—every single time. It didn’t matter if the world was falling apart around them, or they were staring death straight in the eye. Her soulmate could always be counted on to keep her promise. And on the rare occasion the warrior couldn’t, then it was only fair that Gabrielle picked up the slack.

Here, at this moment, it was hard to believe she’d ever doubted her soulmate. But Gabrielle wasn’t ready to admit her folly to her partner just yet. She rested her face against the smooth leather of Xena’s battledress, inhaling the slightly sour smell of stale sweat mixed in with the stronger acrid smell of the vinegar the warrior used to clean her armour.

“Thanks, I needed that,” Gabrielle said, reluctantly pulling away. “What were we talking about again?”

“The ring. What do you want to do with it?”

Gabrielle took some time to think about it. “We should probably free the djinn, unless you don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t know how we’re going to do that though. Maybe we can ask the djinn to send us back to Byzantium. It’s a big city, someone’s bound to know something,” she said.

“I don’t trust the djinn,” Xena admitted. “He may not have participated willingly in Alti’s plans, but he hasn’t been upfront either. There may be more to the ring than we know. I don’t want to use it unless we have no other choice.”

Gabrielle understood her soulmate’s caution. Thanks to the gods and their constant meddling in their lives, they had been on the wrong end of magic that had gone badly awry on more than one occasion. One time, Aphrodite had cast a spell on her scroll, making everything she wrote come true. As it so happened, Gabrielle had been writing fiction for a change, and gotten a little carried away. Nothing she wrote turned out the way she wanted, and the more she tried to make things right, the worse everything became. Luckily, Xena had returned to save the day. The same could easily happen with the ring. If the djinn deliberately chose to misinterpret their request, or they were careless in what they wished for, they could end up in a worse situation than the one they were currently in.

“No arguments from me there. But how are we going to get back to Byzantium if we don’t use the ring?” Gabrielle asked.

“We’ll have to free the djinn first,” Xena said. “Maybe Alti has something that could help with that.”

“You mean like an instruction manual?” Gabrielle asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Xena shrugged. She hadn’t seen anything pertaining to the ring in the brief time she’d spent in Alti’s room, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. “There are a lot of books in her room. Notes too.”

“And since the ring was hers, one of them might have information on it.” Gabrielle said, finishing the thought for the warrior. She nodded slowly. “It’s as good a place to start as any. Okay, I’m sold. Lead the way. I don’t want to be stuck here any longer than we have to.”

***

It only took the soulmates a few short minutes to make their way out of the dungeon and up the spiral staircase to the second floor. Thanks to Xena’s unerring sense of direction, they quickly arrived at the door to Alti’s room.

When Xena pushed open the door, Gabrielle’s jaw nearly dropped onto the floor as she caught sight of the massive bed directly across from her. “That bed has to be fit for a king!” She exclaimed, making a beeline for it. She ran her hand over the buttery soft silk sheets, before pressing down on the bed.

“Xena, this bed… It’s soft, and yet firm at the same time. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” With that, Gabrielle threw herself onto the bed, her eyes widening in momentary surprise as she bounced up off the mattress briefly before sinking down into its soft embrace.

“This has to be heaven…” Gabrielle turned to her soulmate and patted the empty space next to her. “Xena, you have to try this. Come on, there’s more than enough space for the two of us.”

The bard’s childlike wonder and enthusiasm brought a smile to Xena’s face. In another time and place, she might have been tempted to join her soulmate, and take advantage of the bed and its possibilities, but she was keen to free the djinn and return to Byzantium before the day was over. “I think I’ll pass. Why don’t you search the room, I’ll go check the rest of the place.”

“Wait,” Gabrielle said, scrambling out of the bed and gesturing to the books and papers strewn all over the lone table in the room. “You’re not going to help me with this?”

Xena shook her head in response. “We’ll cover more ground if we split up. Besides, you’re better at reading.”

“You probably read and write more languages than I do,” Gabrielle pointed out. “Just because I’m the bard doesn’t mean I’m better at it.”

Xena didn’t bother arguing the point. If she did, they would be at it all day. “You’re faster than I am. Let me know if you find anything.” She gave her soulmate a peck on the cheek and left.

Now that she was alone, the bed no longer held the same allure for Gabrielle as it had earlier, though she did look over at it with some measure of regret before she headed over to the table to get started. The first thing that caught her eye, was a strange looking object that looked like two miniature hollowed-out frying pans. The end of the handles overlapped and were fastened together by a metal rivet. Unlike a frying pan, these were made out of wood, and were relatively thin and light. She peered through one of the hollowed-out rings, noticing how it made everything appear bigger and closer than they actually were. However, anything more than an arm’s length away looked blurry.

She brought them up to her face and, after some trial and error, was able to clamp them down onto the bridge of her nose. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was tolerable. The way it distorted her vision however, made her dizzy and more than a little queasy. She hurriedly took them off. She would show them to Xena later, but for the moment, she put them over to the side.

Gabrielle gathered the books and papers together and started sorting through them. The book at the very top was titled ‘Maleficis Biblia’. It was Latin, and translated to ‘The Witches’ Book’, which on its own wasn’t particularly descriptive or helpful in determining what the book was about. Luckily, someone had added a brief description at the bottom, ‘Everything you need to know about spells’. She placed it on her left, then moved on to the next. The title on this one read ‘101 Spells for the Discerning Witch’. She added it to the first pile. Following that were a few loose sheets of paper in hastily scribbled Greek. These appeared to be notes, and Gabrielle made a new pile for them in the middle.

Most of the books contained spells. All the loose pieces of paper contained notes. Some of the books, like the Witches Lore appeared to be detailed guides, with some history on witchcraft sprinkled within. Gabrielle had to leaf through that book to figure out which pile it should go in—the one on her right—which was everything that didn’t fit into the first two. Once she had them all sorted, she sat down and pulled the pile of notes to her. It seemed the most logical place to start.

Not all the notes were in Greek, and there were clear differences in handwriting, which suggested someone other than Alti had written them. Gabrielle set those aside and focused on the notes she believed to have been written by the shamaness. Alti’s handwriting was exceedingly sloppy, and Gabrielle had to put in quite a bit of effort into deciphering them. There were what appeared to be journal entries, detailing grievances about the perceived incompetence of the djinn, and complaining about the constant waiting around. One journal entry mentioned the ring’s three wishes, and how Alti had carefully worded her wishes to get three chances at changing the past while still being able to order the djinn around to carry out her bidding.

The next few pages did not contain any references to the ring and did not appear relevant to their circumstances. Gabrielle was about to similarly dismiss the page she had in front of her when she spotted the word ‘bitch’ circled and underlined multiple times. Her attention piqued, she read the relevant section and realised with a sick sense of dread that the ‘bitch’ Alti was referring to, was her.

In the note, the shamaness had copied down a spell known simply as the ‘Power Drain’. It listed the ingredients and preparation for the spell, as well as the steps to cast it. One of the final steps required the caster to harvest energy from the suffering of another, preferably an innocent, to power the spell. Beside this, Alti had written ‘Torture the little bitch, draw it out. The more she suffers, the more powerful the spell. Pity Xena won’t be able to witness it.’

Alti had mentioned the possibility of torture earlier, but Gabrielle hadn’t really taken the threat to heart, given the context in which it had been mentioned. It was clear now that torture had always been on the cards, one way or another. Considering how much delight the shamaness took in inflicting pain on others, Gabrielle wasn’t particularly surprised. But it still shocked her all the same. It was fortunate they had managed to stop Alti before she had the chance to put the rest of her plan into action.

Gabrielle moved the note to the side, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she picked up the next. She looked through the rest of Alti’s notes, but found nothing of interest, so she turned to the notes she’d set aside earlier. The first of these was written on an old piece of parchment that had multiple crease lines in it, as if someone had folded it up into a tiny square before hiding it away. There were also clear sweat and water stains on the back. It was written in Aramaic, a language she had picked up when they’d been in Egypt. The first line read, ‘Ring to contain a fire elemental’.

***

Xena had already looked through most of the rooms on the ground floor when she was searching for the basement earlier; hence it would have made sense to start her search right there on the second floor. But her gut was telling her to head back down to the ground floor and go through the rooms one more time, including the ones she’d already checked. On the surface, it would appear counterproductive, and a waste of time, but the warrior had learned a long time ago to trust her instincts. So, she went down the stairs and started in the opposite direction from where she’d begun her search previously.

This hallway was nearly identical in every aspect to the other hallways she’d seen so far—except there were more doors, and they weren’t as far apart. The rooms were also smaller. Full length floor-to-ceiling shelves took up every available space within the rooms, cramped full of books, scrolls, stone tablets and all sorts of reading materials. There were even smooth metallic tablets with glass on one side that had no writing on them. They reminded Xena of the wax tablets the Roman army regularly used. But that was where the similarity ended. She doubted it was possible to carve anything into either the metal or the glass. Clearly, they were from the future, which meant the djinn wasn’t merely an observer in his time travels, he was also a thief and a liar. It made Xena wonder how much of the truth the djinn had told her, and how much of it was a lie.

That aside, it was an impressive collection, one that might even rival the Library of Alexandria in terms of its sheer size, and totally befitting someone who claimed to be a student of knowledge. It wouldn’t be a stretch of imagination to think there might be something within these rooms that could help them break the containment spell, or return them to Byzantium without involving the djinn. But it would take too long to go through all of it, so Xena left them well alone.

The next hallway led to the south wing. Here, she came across a fully furnished bedroom, one with not only a bed, a table, and a wardrobe, but also a latrine and a tub for bathing. The room was immaculate, though there were signs someone had once lived there. There was a quill and ink pot on the table, next to a polishing kit similar to what Xena used for her own weapons and armour. Neatly folded in the wardrobe were a number of spare clothing, including undergarments for a woman. In one of the drawers, Xena found a wooden box containing a pair of earrings. She recognised the earrings instantly, even though it had been nearly three decades since she’d last saw them. They belonged to Najara. The zealot’s bedroom took up nearly the whole of the south wing’s ground floor.

After leaving the bedroom, Xena walked past the stairs to the dungeon, and turned into the south-west wing. She’d searched this wing earlier while looking for Gabrielle, but she’d only taken a quick glance into the rooms from outside the doorway. The rooms had appeared unremarkable, and she hadn’t given them much thought at the time. Now that she was physically inside one of the rooms, she could feel the difference immediately. She stepped back outside, closing the door behind her. The air was still but cool, and the silence was almost palpable.

When she opened the door and stepped inside the room again, the contrast was striking. The air was warmer, and despite the room being empty, it was strangely abuzz with life, much the way a busy market would be, except without any of the hubbub. Xena made a careful circuit around the room. She even tapped on the walls, searching for signs of a hidden passage. There were none. Undeterred, she moved on to the next room. It was the same thing all over again. And again, no hidden passage. The third room however, had something the first two rooms didn’t—a rectangular fireplace set into the back wall.

The fireplace did not appear to be in use, and yet the air grew increasingly warmer the closer Xena got to it. The hearth of the fireplace was spotlessly clean. There wasn’t any ash or soot to suggest it had been used recently. Upon closer inspection, Xena noticed the air inside the fireplace was shimmering, the way it sometimes did out in the desert, when the sand had absorbed too much heat from the blistering hot sun. Curious, she reached into the fireplace. Her hand tingled briefly before disappearing from sight. Xena was familiar with the sensation. There was a portal inside the fireplace.

She wondered if this was the dimensional gateway the djinn had mentioned earlier. Or if, perhaps, it was a doorway into the bustling streets of what the djinn called home, where djinn of all shapes and sizes conducted their everyday business and went about their lives. That would explain the buzz of energy she’d felt. For all she knew, it could lead to the plane of fire, if such a plane even existed, where fires raged unceasingly and the djinn were fully in their element. It would certainly explain why the air near the portal was so hot.

Xena was tempted to find out. But she didn’t plan on doing so without Gabrielle, especially since there was no guarantee she would be able to return once she stepped through the portal. She had no intention of leaving her soulmate behind, accidentally or otherwise. Besides, just because there was a portal didn’t mean she had to use it. But that also didn’t mean she couldn’t come back to it later, especially if they couldn’t find a way to free the djinn.

The last room she came to on the ground floor was empty—completely empty. There was no furniture or furnishings of any kind. Xena had noticed this during her previous search, but had dismissed it out of hand since she’d been looking for a set of stairs down to the basement at the time. Now, she noticed the peculiar scuff marks on the floor. These didn’t appear to have been caused by moving heavy furniture, and her suspicions were further confirmed when she found more scuff marks, this time on the left wall, at the corner where it intersected with the rear wall. Following a hunch, Xena went to the right-most side of the rear wall, placed her palms firmly on it, braced herself, and pushed.

The wall gave way with a low groan, rotating inwards to reveal a secret chamber within. Tools of various shapes and sizes hung on the walls above worktables littered with assorted metallic objects. Bits of odds and ends, as well as different types of metal ores were stored in containers under the worktables. In the middle of it all, was a supersized blacksmith forge. The hearth was lined with a fresh bed of charcoal, ready to be put to use at any time. Two large barrels next to it contained more charcoal and also water for quenching. Right in front of the forge, was an iron anvil, complete with tongs, hammer, and bellows.

Xena was not a blacksmith by trade, but she knew her way around a forge, and judging from the items on the worktables, it would appear that the djinn fancied himself as somewhat of a craftsman. She found it curious that the djinn had chosen to hide the forge away behind a secret wall, instead of installing it somewhere more accessible. Then again, this wasn’t Xena’s home, and it wasn’t her place to judge. Now that her search of the ground floor was complete, she went to see if Gabrielle had found anything useful amongst Alti’s possessions.

***

“Find anything?” Xena asked as she walked through the door.

“I’m not sure,” Gabrielle answered without looking up.

Xena walked over and squinted at the cursive writing on the parchment. It took her a moment to identify the script. “Isn’t that Nabataean Aramaic?”

“Uh-huh.”

Unlike Greek, which read from left to right, Nabataean Aramaic read from right to left. There were also no spaces between words, which could make it difficult to decipher for someone unfamiliar with the script. Gabrielle, however, had an uncanny knack when it came to picking up languages, both written and spoken. She didn’t have as much exposure to this particular script, but she’d gone over the parchment three times and was confident she’d gotten the gist of what it said.

“This was written by the person who created the ring,” Gabrielle said. “Most of it is focused on the design. But there are a few parts that may be relevant.” She pointed at a line halfway down the page. “It says here that the gem must be able to withstand extremely high heat without breaking. They considered using a diamond but decided the ruby would be a better choice since it also channels fire energy.”

Gabrielle stabbed her finger at another line lower down. “As part of the spell used to hold the djinn, they cut the ruby into the shape of a water droplet. Something about using water to subdue fire. It’s the ruby that’s enchanted, not the ring.”

“Meaning If we can break the ruby, we can free the djinn,” Xena said.

“Any idea how we can do that?” Gabrielle asked.

Xena leaned down and used her finger to locate the line she was looking for. She read it over a few times. When she was sure she hadn’t misunderstood the word the author had used, or the context in which it had been used in, she looked up at her soulmate and said confidently, “Fire. We use fire.”

Gabrielle frowned. “Fire? But Xena, it says that the ruby is able to withstand extreme heat without breaking. A fire isn’t going to be hot enough. I think we need a lava pit for that. Did you happen to find one in your search?”

Xena raised an eyebrow at the bard’s response. “Not a lava pit. But I did find a forge.”

“Even with a forge, I don’t think we can get the fire hot enough.”

“Maybe not,” Xena conceded. She didn’t know enough about rubies to state conclusively either way. She did however have experience using a forge. There was a reason gems were only set after the forging process, when the metal had cooled, and not before. “We’ll just have to crank up the heat and see what happens. If it doesn’t work, we can go look for that lava pit.”

“Fine. But before we go test out your theory, look at what I found!” Gabrielle moved some papers around, pulled out the eyeglasses, and presented it to the warrior with a flourish. “Ta-dah!”

“What about it?” Xena had already seen the gadget in use and was suitably unimpressed.

“You could show a little more enthusiasm,” Gabrielle grumbled. “I mean, look at it. Have you ever seen anything like it?” She fixed the eyeglasses onto the bridge of her nose and stared at her soulmate owl-eyed. “What do you think?”

“I think your eyes are perfectly fine without it.” Xena plucked the eyeglasses off of Gabrielle’s nose and threw them carelessly onto the table.

“Hey! Be careful with that!” Gabrielle chided, picking up the eyeglasses and examining them for any signs of damage. When she didn’t find any, she heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m thinking of keeping it.”

“Gabrielle, you don’t need it.”

“Better to have something and not need it, than to need something and not have it.” This was one of Gabrielle’s favourite sayings. She brought it out every time she was tempted to buy something they didn’t need.

“Sorry Gabrielle, but you can’t keep it.” Xena gestured for the bard to hand over the eyeglasses. Since learning of Gabrielle’s pregnancy, the warrior had been more indulgent than usual. She would go out of her way to satisfy the bard’s cravings, and would even pander to some of her soulmate’s more whimsical requests. So, it was surprising she would outright deny her partner something as inconsequential as this.

“Why not?” Gabrielle asked.

“It’s from the future. It doesn’t belong in our time.”

“We’ve been to the future,” Gabrielle said. “I don’t see how this is different.”

“We didn’t bring anything back from the future,” Xena pointed out. “We don’t know what will happen if we bring this back.” She then glanced meaningfully at her soulmate’s abdomen. “I don’t want to take the risk.”

“Okay,” Gabrielle said, meekly handing the eyeglasses over. They had a good thing going here, with a child on the way, and a chance at finally having their happily ever after. They had overcome so many obstacles and endured so much heartache to get to where they were now. It seemed the height of folly to jeopardise it all for a fancy gadget from the future, especially one of no practical use to either of them.

***

“I don’t know what I was expecting when you told me you’d found a forge, but it wasn’t this,” Gabrielle said. She picked up a small golden figurine from the worktable nearest to her. It was unfinished, having only one arm soldered on. Next to it was an oil lamp, and a long, thin tapered copper tube bent at a right angle near the thinner end. She stared at it quizzically and looked to her soulmate for an explanation.

Xena picked up the tube. “It’s a blowpipe.” She brought the thicker end to her mouth and mimed blowing into it. “You use it to focus the flame of a candle or an oil lamp onto the pieces you want to weld together.”

“Sounds like delicate work.”

“It is,” Xena agreed. She put the blowpipe down and turned her attention to the furnace. The hearth was already lined with fresh charcoal, so she took out her flint and steel and set about starting a fire. “We need to get the fire going. Think you can work the bellows?”

“Sure.” Gabrielle found the bellows sitting on top of the anvil. She grabbed them and stepped up beside her soulmate. When the fire caught, she aimed the nozzle at it and began slowly pumping away.

“Just get it burning nicely while I remove the ruby from the ring.”

“Why do you need to do that?” Gabrielle asked.

“To expose it fully to the flames,” Xena said.

According to the text, rubies had the ability to absorb, hold, and channel fire energy. In that sense, it was ideal for holding the djinn, who were essentially fire elementals. If they couldn’t get the forge hot enough to break the ruby, then Xena hoped that prolonged exposure to an excess of fire energy would overload the gem to the point of self-destruction. Or that the power from the fire would allow the djinn to break free of his own accord.

The maker of the ring had utilised a full bezel setting, which involved wrapping a metal rim completely around the edges of the gem to hold it securely in place. To remove the ruby, Xena needed a small thin blade she could insert between the gem and the bezel. None of her daggers had a thin enough blade, but she figured the djinn would have a set of jeweller’s knives or a similar tool that might fit the bill. She didn’t have to look far. Tucked away behind the oil lamp, was a small knife. Xena picked it up, brought it up to her eye and examined the blade critically. It looked to be thin enough to work.

She retrieved the ring from inside her vambrace, slotted the band into a wooden vice to secure it bezel-side up, and set to work. Usually, jewellers tended to be careful when prying open the bezel, as they didn’t want to damage the gem, but Xena didn’t have any such reservations. The goal was to free the djinn, one way or another. It was unlikely the ruby would survive the attempt, so it didn’t really matter if she accidentally scratched it. Besides, the ruby was supposed to be enchanted. It should be protected against minor incidental damage.

“Fire’s ready,” Gabrielle announced.

“Good.” Xena pried the last bit of bezel off, then use the knife to pop the ruby out. “There we go.”

As expected, there wasn’t a scratch on it. Held up to the light, the ruby appeared semi-translucent, the same as it’d appeared when she’d been trapped inside. On the surface, it looked like an ordinary ruby, albeit one of higher quality than those typically found at the common markets. She saw no sign to indicate there might be a djinn trapped within, though Xena knew with absolute certainty that there was.

The warrior used the tongs to drop the ruby into the hottest part of the fire, which was the area right in front of the bellows’ nozzle. “Now, give it all you got,” she told Gabrielle before retreating to the worktables, where she’d spotted a second bellows earlier.

Gabrielle increased the intensity of her efforts, working the bellows as hard and as fast as she could go. For a moment, the flames flashed white, and the heat became so unbearable she had to back away. “Xena, it’s too hot.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got it.” Xena stepped in front of her soulmate, using her own body to shield the bard from the worst of the heat as she brought her own bellows to bear. While she worked the bellows in short powerful strokes, she silently berated herself for thoughtlessly putting Gabrielle in harm’s way. Even with a blacksmith apron on, the heat would have been intense. There was no excuse for exposing her pregnant partner to that level of heat without any protection.

She’d been too focused on the task at hand, and failed to consider the well-being of her soulmate until it was too late. It was something she’d struggled with, especially early on their travels, though not in recent years. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was the consequence of letting her doppelgänger back out into the real world.

“You okay?” Xena asked.

“I’m fine. A little singed but nothing major.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I—”

“Xena, I’m fine. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Her soulmate didn’t seem to blame her, but Xena certainly did—blame herself. She needed to be better, for Gabrielle’s sake, and for the sake of their child. She silently vowed to never put either of them in harm’s way again. If her doppelgänger, her dark side, was the problem, then she needed to get on top of it—and fast.

While she was busy castigating herself, the flames around the ruby had turned a bright whitish-blue. It was the hottest the fire was going to get. If the gem was ever going to crack under the heat, it would have to be now. Xena continued to fan the flames. She wanted to keep the fire at its absolute peak intensity for as long as possible.

Mere seconds later, the soulmates were startled by a loud, sudden high-pitched crack.

Gabrielle turned to look at the warrior, her eyes wide. “Is that—”

“The ruby? I think so.” Xena passed her bellows to the bard and said, “Can you hand me the tongs?”

Gabrielle grabbed the tongs from the top of the anvil, and handed them over.

“Stand back,” Xena warned, as she reached into the fire with the tongs, plucked the ruby out, and immediately dunked it into the water barrel. The water hissed and bubbled angrily, sending up a huge cloud of scalding-hot steam.

Gabrielle looked on from a safe distance, thoroughly confused. She didn’t understand why her soulmate was trying to cool the ruby down. Wasn’t the whole point of the exercise to heat the gem up until it broke? “What are you doing?”

Xena did not immediately answer. Instead, she pulled the ruby out of the water and showed it to the bard. The ruby appeared to be intact, though there were obvious crack lines on the surface.

“Looks like we need that lava pit to finish the job,” Gabrielle said, disappointed that their efforts had been in vain.

“Maybe not,” Xena said. Once the ruby had cooled down enough to be handled safely, she dried it off, then heaped a fresh layer of charcoal onto the hearth. She handed the ruby and the tongs to her partner. “When the flames turn blue, drop it in.”

The warrior started pumping the bellows hard and fast. The fresh charcoal quickly caught fire. Before long, the flames were turning a yellowish-white, then white, and finally, a whitish-blue.

“Now,” Xena said.

Gabrielle dropped the gem into the middle of the whitish-blue flames. Almost immediately, there was a loud crack. This was soon followed by a distinct pop, like a corn kernel bursting open after falling into a campfire, except way louder.

A soft persistent hissing sound filled the room. It gradually grew louder, until without any warning whatsoever, the room exploded—into a blindingly bright light.

***

Complete utter darkness.

That was what greeted Gabrielle when she opened her eyes. She blinked. It was no good. She still couldn’t see anything. No shapes, no movement, no nothing. Panic bubbled up in her chest. Could the explosion have blinded her? Was she doomed to spend the rest of her life in darkness, never to see the light of day again?

Don’t be silly, Gabrielle silently chided herself, pushing the panic back down. She was overreacting, as she was prone to do ever since Jappa. You really should get a grip on yourself.

“Gabrielle?”

Hearing her soulmate’s voice at that moment was like a balm to her soul. She turned her head in the direction the voice had come from, and called out, “Xena, I’m here.”

“Stay where you are. I’ll get us some light.”

There was the sound of steel striking flint, followed by a tiny spark in the darkness. Whatever flammable material the warrior was using must have caught, because Gabrielle heard gentle blowing, followed by a small glow in the darkness that barely illuminated the hand that held it.

Using this tiny source of light, Xena searched in her vicinity for something she could use to make a torch. She found a broken chair leg and wrapped a length of moth-eaten cloth around the jagged end. Then she rubbed the head of the makeshift torch along the inside of a shard of broken amphora, coating it liberally with the remnants of the olive oil it had once held. When she was satisfied, she touched the scrap of burning burlap she had to the oil-soaked cloth.

The stale olive oil ignited readily enough, and Xena held the burning torch up to illuminate their surroundings. It was as she suspected, they were in the basement where Najara had held Gabrielle captive hours earlier. It seemed that the djinn, upon gaining his freedom, had chosen to return the soulmates to Byzantium without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Where are we?” Gabrielle asked.

“You don’t remember this place?”

Gabrielle shook her head slowly as she took another look around. “Should I?”

“Never mind. Let’s get outta here. I bet you’re hungry.”

Gabrielle’s stomach, which had been silent until now, growled loudly in agreement. She gave her soulmate a sheepish grin.

Xena smiled. “C’mon then.”

When they emerged from the insula, it was still light out. Based on the position of the sun in the sky, it would seem that a little over four hours had passed since Xena ingested the opium drink at the Asclepieion. That was roughly the amount of time she estimated she’d spent in the extradimensional plane. Which left the time in the dream passage wholly unaccounted for. But that wasn’t so surprising. The dreamscape was funny with time like that.

Now that the immediate danger was over, Xena wondered if it might have been a mistake to send Alti into the dream passage, given the possible conflict between the past and the future. But as she thought about it, she realised her worries and her concern were unfounded. The dreamscape was a world unto itself. The laws of time and space didn’t apply there. Just like the Rheingold ring, everything and anything could exist within the dreamscape, including the past, the present, and every possible conceivable and inconceivable future.

Alti was no threat to Morpheus and his realm of dreams. If anything, it was the shamaness who should be worried. Like Xena, she would have to confront her own demons within the dream passage. If she somehow managed to survive the ordeal and find her way out of there, she would return to the timeline from whence she came from—without the ring that had allowed her to wreak such havoc in their lives. That, Xena decided, would have to be enough.

That didn’t necessarily mean it would be the last they see of the shamaness, though Xena certainly hoped that would be the case—at least until their next reincarnation. It was bad enough that Alti had targeted the soul of her baby while she’d been pregnant. She did not want the same to happen to Gabrielle. A part of her wished she could return to Alti’s grave site, and repeat the burial ritual to make doubly sure her old nemesis wouldn’t return to haunt them.

But the djinn had made it abundantly clear there would be repercussions if she did so—repercussions that would threaten their past, present, and future. She was aware how much the baby meant to Gabrielle, given what had happened with Hope. Xena planned on doing everything in her power to keep both mother and child safe, to give her soulmate that second chance at being a mother. It wouldn’t erase the past, but it would give Gabrielle new memories to hold on to—memories that would one day outweigh the bad. And if Alti dared to show her ugly mug around them again, then Xena would just have to send her old nemesis packing—as many times as it took.

“Look! They’re having a promotion. Four meals for the price of two. That’s a great deal. We should eat here,” Gabrielle said. She was looking at a signboard placed outside one of the taverns. When she didn’t receive a response, she turned around and realised her soulmate had gone on ahead without her. She hurried to catch up.

“Xena! Xena! Hey!” It wasn’t until Gabrielle physically grabbed hold of the warrior’s arm that her soulmate finally turned to look at her.

“Something wrong?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while now. It’s not like you to be so distracted,” Gabrielle said. “Is something the matter?”

Xena shook her head and apologised. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

Gabrielle regarded her soulmate suspiciously. “You’re not hiding anything from me, are you?”

“I did secure passage for us on a ship to Phasis. It leaves at first light, so we’ll have to be there before dawn.”

“I hoped you bargained the price down. We don’t really have much to spare.”

Xena flashed her partner a smile. “I knew you’d say that. We’ll have to supply our own food and water, but the captain’s agreed to grant us free passage in exchange for me working the ship.”

“Hmm. How much were the other captains asking for?”

“Too much. It would be cheaper if it was just the two of us.”

Gabrielle wasn’t surprised. Merchant ships were all about profit. They would rather use every space available on their ship to stock up on valuable cargo than to ferry livestock for paying passengers—unless, of course, it was financially worth their while to do so. But this wasn’t the first time the warrior was crewing a ship in exchange for passage. Her soulmate could probably sail the seas blindfolded, if she chose to do so. There was no reason she would be so deep in thought over something as simple and mundane as that.

Gabrielle decided to let it slide—for now. They were standing in the middle of the busy streets, drawing curious stares from the passers-by who had to skirt around them to continue on their way. And besides, she had worked up quite an appetite. “How about we get some dinner? That tavern is offering a one-for-one. Four meals for the price of two.”

“I didn’t realise you were that hungry,” Xena said.

“These days, I’m always hungry. But I was thinking of you.”

“Me?”

“Don’t tell me you ate lunch. Because you didn’t. I know you too well, Xena. You would’ve waited for me. And when I didn’t show up, you would’ve come running. I should have remembered that earlier. But I was too hungry. Now it’s my turn to feed you.”

“You’re eating for two,” Xena pointed out. “It’s okay if I miss a meal here and there. It’s not like I’ve never done it before.”

“I get that you want to take care of me. But not if you’re neglecting yourself in the process. You’re going to burn yourself out sooner or later if you keep doing that. Then who’s going to take care of me?” Gabrielle asked. She planted both of her hands on her hips, signalling her readiness to defend her position if the warrior chose to argue the point.

Xena wisely decided not to, though it didn’t stop her voicing a protest as a matter of fact. “Gabrielle, I don’t burn out that easily. But I hear you. You take two portions, I’ll take one. And we’ll share the last. How does that sound?”

“Perfect!” Gabrielle said with a grin.

***

After dinner, they returned to their room where they had a quick bath before taking up their positions from the night before.

Gabrielle was seated cross-legged on the bed, her head bent intently over her journal, scribbling furiously. From time to time, she would dip her quill into the ink pot placed within easy reach on the nightstand, touch it briefly to a rag to get rid of the excess ink, before continuing to write.

Meanwhile, Xena was seated at the table, scrubbing the dirt and grime from her leather battledress with a dry cloth. When that was done, she cleaned it with watered-down vinegar, before using a dry cloth to wipe it down. She placed her battledress on a chair to air-dry then started on her weapons and the rest of her armour. Once she was done with all the cleaning, she rubbed oil into the leather of her armour and her boots. This was necessary to keep the leather supple and to protect it from moisture. The next step would be to sharpen and oil the blades on her sword and assorted daggers. The last and final step would be to polish her breastplate and all the other metal bits of her armour before setting them aside for the night.

It was a fairly involved process that wasn’t suitable for the times when they were camped out in the open, which used to be almost all the time. Money was tight back then. These days they were more likely to spend the night indoors, mostly for the comfort of Gabrielle, though that would change once they crossed the Bosporus. They would be travelling with the Amazons and Otrera’s daughters, which meant setting up camp outdoors wherever they could, because as much as they might prefer the comfort of an inn, they couldn’t afford rooms for everyone. And it would be safer to stay together. There was strength and security in numbers, especially in the lands out east where they would be regarded suspiciously, and might even be mistaken for a marauding army bent on conquest.

The soulmates went about their separate tasks in companionable silence. Like all couples who’d been together for a long time, they didn’t feel the need to be up in each other’s personal space all the time. They were content to do their own thing, in their own little space. Obviously, there was comfort to be drawn from their proximity to each other. On this night however, an unspoken tension hung in the air between the two.

That was only to be expected. After all, it had been an eventful day. Even though they had spoken about some of it, there was more they had left unsaid. Both of them had learned things about themselves, about their world, and about each other that they needed to digest and analyse—in full or in part. They did this in their own unique way—Gabrielle, by writing everything down in her journal; and Xena, by working things through in the privacy of her own head.

Eventually, the tension got to be too much, and they both looked up, speaking at the same time.

“Gabrielle—”

“Xena, I—”

Their gaze caught, and each offered the other a wry smile.

Xena gestured for the bard to go first.

Gabrielle shook her head. If she went first, there was a good chance her soulmate would clam up later. “No, no. You go.” She had a look on her face, that told the warrior she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

So, Xena did as she was asked. “You need to be careful around me.”

Gabrielle was taken aback. She didn’t know what her soulmate was talking about, “What?”

“Just be careful,” Xena said. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

“Is this about what happened at the forge?”

The warrior didn’t reply, so Gabrielle said, “Xena, I’m not a child. I know how to take care of myself. If there had been a blacksmith apron there, I would have put it on. But I guess fire elementals aren’t too worried about the heat or getting burned. And when it got too hot, you stepped in, just like I knew you would. Yes, it was uncomfortable, but I wasn’t hurt in any way.”

“But you could have. I shouldn’t have let you get that close to the fire.”

“Xena, you said it yourself. We are partners. You cannot expect me to sit around and do nothing while you take on everything alone. Yes, I’m pregnant. And there will come a time when I’ll be more of a hindrance than a help. But until then, I intend to pull my own weight.”

“Gabrielle, that’s not what I’m saying. I had to merge with my dark side to leave the dream passage.”

Gabrielle’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean you had to merge with your dark side?”

“Remember we were talking last night about the time Eli brought me back?”

Gabrielle nodded cautiously. “You didn’t remember anything bad or violent. It was like your dark side was missing. But you brought that part of you back when you joined the light and dark chakrams.”

“That was what I thought,” Xena said. “But it turns out, the darkest, most vicious part of me was left behind—in the dream passage. What happened at the forge could be an oversight on my part. Or it could be my dark side getting the better of me. That’s why I need you to watch yourself around me. At least until I have it fully under control.”

Sometimes, they spoke so much about the warrior’s dark side that it was easy to forget it wasn’t a separate entity. It was part of Xena. But Gabrielle was aware the warrior had encountered her dark side within the dream passage previously, so it wasn’t surprising to learn she had a similar encounter this time.

What happened at the forge wasn’t as serious as Xena was making it out to be. Yes, the situation could have turned dangerous. But the warrior was always going to take over when the going got rough. It was what she did on a regular basis, and it was the reason she’d grabbed a second bellows—so that she could take Gabrielle’s place in front of the fire.

Gabrielle knew what her soulmate’s dark side was capable of. She’d witnessed it in action multiple times and had even been on the receiving end of it on occasion, mostly during the early years of their travels. If the incident in the forge had been the work of Xena’s darkest, and most vicious side, as the warrior believed it to be, then Gabrielle should be dead, or badly burned and maimed. Instead, she was not only alive, but unharmed.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You could have killed Alti today, not once, but twice. The old you would have no qualms about taking her life. And the most vicious part of you? I’m sure it would have jumped at the chance. That you didn’t, tells me you’re fully in control of yourself,” Gabrielle said.

Xena felt slightly reassured. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to err on the side of caution. “Maybe I’m overreacting. But I don’t want anything happening to you or the baby,” she said.

“My getting abducted probably didn’t help. I’ll try to be more careful next time,” Gabrielle said.

“There won’t be a next time,” Xena said emphatically. It wasn’t intended as a reproach of the bard so much as it was a statement of fact. Or perhaps it was a promise. Sometimes, it was hard to tell with the warrior.

“Your turn,” Xena said, turning the floor over to her partner.

“Right… Well, I wanted to apologise.”

Xena couldn’t understand why the bard felt the need to apologise, and she said as much, “If anyone’s to blame for what happened today, it would be Alti, not you.”

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Gabrielle said. “After Jappa, I was angry. I blamed you for everything—the nightmares, the flashbacks… Even my own fears and doubts—everything.” She deliberately left out the mental anguish and physical pain she had to endure as a result of Xena’s decisions in Jappa. It would only add on to the warrior’s guilt, and Gabrielle didn’t want that.

Xena could certainly understand how her soulmate felt. She blamed herself too, for what she’d put her partner through. There were so many things she should have done differently. If she had handled things better, Gabrielle wouldn’t have had to suffer through the emotional torment of finding her headless corpse. And the bard would not have to relive the moment in her nightmares or her flashbacks. Xena wished there was something she could say or do, that would make things better. But what’s done was done. She couldn’t take any of it back. She could only listen.

Gabrielle had more to say. She had given the matter a lot of thought, after the epiphany she had earlier. She was done lying to herself. It was time to come clean. Lies corrupted the mind and the soul. If left unchecked, it could even corrupt the body. She had found that out the hard way when she’d lied to conceal her true motivations for thwarting Xena’s assassination attempt on Ming T’ien, and paid the price for it.

“After Bimini, I thought I was ready to let go of the past. I thought I had forgiven you,” Gabrielle said. “But I never truly did. For a long time, I would wake up every morning and worry that it was all a dream. That you were dead, that Bimini never happened, and that I was all alone in this world. I would never admit it to myself. But I started resenting you, and the decisions you made in Jappa. I told myself I couldn’t trust you to make the right decisions, that it would be up to me to make them for you. That further fuelled my fear of losing you. It was a vicious cycle. The only way to break it, was to forgive you. I see that now… You were only doing what you thought was right at the time. I would have done the same.”

“Gabrielle—”

“Please, Xena, let me finish. I realise I had it all wrong from the beginning. You didn’t make the decision to leave me; you made the decision to save those souls. You could have gone on to the afterlife, but you chose to stay by my side. I should be grateful. Instead, I blamed you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

“No, Gabrielle, you don’t have to apologise. You’re not the only one who blames me. I do too.” Xena paused for a brief moment. She knew what she had told her doppelgänger, but she felt she needed to put it out there—to give her soulmate the choice. “If you find it too difficult, I could give up the life. We could settle down with the dragons. Raise our child. Live a normal life.”

***

In all fairness, this wasn’t the first time Xena had talked about settling down. She had said something similar in Chin, when they’d been planning to return to Greece with Ci Nu. Though there hadn’t been any mention at the time about possibly giving up her way of life. And it wasn’t just a lifestyle for the warrior. It was literally her life.

“Xena, I could never ask you to do that,” Gabrielle said.

“I know. That’s why I’m offering.”

“Don’t be silly. I love you too much to let you do that for me. I told you I’d accepted the consequences of our life together. And I have… At least now that I have my head on straight again. If death comes for either of us, then we’ll face it together, the same way we always do. But if it comes for you before it comes for me, don’t expect me to be as calm and collected as I am now,” Gabrielle said the last part half-jokingly.

Xena understood her partner was trying to be strong for her sake, and she appreciated it. But that one small act in itself encapsulated so much more, and she felt a surge of gratitude towards the younger woman. “Thank you—for loving me… For choosing to love me despite everything I’ve done, and everything we’ve been through.”

“Stop it, you’re going to make me cry,” Gabrielle said. “It’s not like I had a choice in the matter. You turned your back on Heaven and came for me when you learned I’d been taken to Hell. You refused to give up on me when I’d given up on myself and was buried neck deep in the deserts of Africa. I love you Xena, because you loved me first.”

“Now who’s being silly?”

“You, of course. Why do you keep doing that? Deflect, when I’m trying to tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I know you don’t think you deserve the nice things people say about you. I understand why. They don’t know the real you. But I do. I like to believe I know you better than anyone else. And I’ve earned the right to tell you the truth as I see it. Unless—you don’t think I’ve earned the right to do so.”

It was a calculated move on Gabrielle’s part. She’d couched it in such a way that Xena could not disagree without calling her credentials as the warrior’s friend, family, and soulmate into question.

Xena knew she’d been backed into a corner, but she didn’t mind, and she readily conceded the point. “Of course you have.”

“Good,” Gabrielle said with a smug grin on her face.

The corner of Xena’s mouth lifted in a half smile at being bested, but she didn’t want the bard to get too cocky. So, she hid it by turning her attention back to the piece of armour she’d been polishing.

Gabrielle too returned to her journaling, though her quill no longer flew ferociously across the parchment. Her writing was more measured, and she frequently paused to gather her thoughts. After some time, the scratching of her quill slowed, then stopped altogether. She set her journal down on the bedside table, weighing down the corners to give the ink time to dry. Then she cleaned her quill and packed away her writing materials.

When she was done, she scooted over to the foot of the bed, where she sat swinging her legs, waiting for the warrior to take notice of her. She waited and waited. But her soulmate was too engrossed in the task at hand. Gabrielle cleared her throat noisily. “Xena?”

The warrior was bent over one of her vambraces, focused on polishing the last bit of bronze to her satisfaction. “Hmm?”

“I know I promised we wouldn’t celebrate your birthday…”

That got Xena’s attention in a hurry, and she looked up. Her eyes caught Gabrielle’s for a brief second before the bard hurriedly looked down, all of a sudden overcome with shyness.

“Does…” Gabrielle cast a furtive glance at the warrior before quickly looking down again. “Does making love count as celebrating?”

The bard looked so much like a kid asking a parent for a bit of candy before bedtime that Xena wanted to let out a loud belly laugh. But she controlled herself, and instead schooled her features into a forbidding frown, her voice serious. “It does.”

“But… but we’ll be boarding the ship in the morning. We’ll be stuck with the crew for a whole week, maybe even longer.”

“The ship will beach at night. We’ll be on land, away from the crew.”

“Still, it’s not as if we can slip away and… you know…”

“I’m sure I can convince the men to mind their own business.”

“But you’ll be working.”

“Not all the time, I won’t.”

So far, Gabrielle’s arguments weren’t working. It was obvious she needed to resort to more drastic measures if she wanted to sway the warrior to her side. She turned on the charm, looking at her soulmate all doe-eyed. She even added a cute little pout for good measure as she asked plaintively, “Is that a no?”

Xena had to smile at her younger companion’s predictability. Gabrielle knew she could never say no to those soulful, puppy dog eyes of hers. And she certainly wasn’t going to now. “I never said that.” She stood up from her chair, pulled her simple linen shift off in one quick motion, and dropped it onto the floor.

Gabrielle couldn’t help but feast her eyes on the warrior’s well-toned body. She wanted to feel the unyielding strength of those muscles against her bare skin, and run her hands over those tantalising curves; she wanted to close her mouth over those perfectly shaped nipples, and swirl her tongue over them until they grew as hard as pebbles. Her tongue flickered between her lips in anticipation of what was to come.

The naked desire in the bard’s forest green eyes awoke a primitive hunger in the warrior. “I did promise, didn’t I?” Xena said as she moved in on her soulmate, her every movement resembling that of a lioness closing in on an unsuspecting prey. When she reached the bed, Xena placed her hands on either side of Gabrielle, then leaned in to capture the bard’s soft plush lips in a kiss that was borderline feral.

Gabrielle let out a soft whimper as she allowed herself to be claimed by the warrior. All of her senses were screaming at her to run; that she had flown too close to the sun like Icarus had, and would soon pay for her folly. But there was also something wildly exhilarating about it. She used to think she liked her men gentle and kind, and the lovemaking tender and sweet. But the first time Xena truly let herself go in the bedroom, Gabrielle found that she actually liked it—a lot. It was liberating in a sense, to surrender herself completely to another person, to place herself wholly at their mercy, and to trust them to bring her the most exquisite and utmost pleasure.

Her heart raced, her pupils dilated, her womanhood throbbed with desire, and she was getting so wet—it was threatening to soak through her undergarments. But Gabrielle forced herself to pull away from the kiss, freeing her momentarily from whatever spell her soulmate had cast on her. She scooted backwards, but the warrior got down on her hands and knees and followed.

The moment Gabrielle’s back contacted the headboard, she realised she was hemmed in with nowhere to run. Eyes the colour of midnight stared deep within her soul, then turned its attention to her lips. She closed her eyes, in unspoken permission, and as the warrior leaned in for another kiss, Gabrielle’s hand brushed up against the object she’d hidden away in advance. Without a second thought, she grabbed it and slapped it firmly against the side of the warrior’s face in one quick motion.

Xena reared back violently, stunned by the sudden turn of events. She stared in disbelief at the ink-stained cloth in Gabrielle’s hand, the same one the bard had used all night to wipe off the excess ink from her quill. She put a finger to her cheek. It came away stained with ink. She shot her snickering soulmate a withering glare, and growled, “Gabrielle…”

“Look Xena, I can explain. It’s just… you know… All these years. The birthday pranks. I never had the opportunity until now. I wanted to—”

At that moment, Xena couldn’t care less what Gabrielle wanted. She plucked the ink-stained cloth from her soulmate’s hand and brandished it in the air like a weapon. “You’re going to regret this.”

Gabrielle raised her hands to protect herself from the warrior’s wrath. “Xena, no, don’t. I’m sorry.” She thought she knew what was to come.

But instead of smearing the ink over Gabrielle in retaliation, Xena rubbed the cloth all over her face before discarding it over the side of the bed. When her soulmate lowered her hands to see what was going on, the warrior pounced. She pinned the younger woman down on the bed, and kissed her long and hard.

When the warrior finally let her up for air, Gabrielle tried to reason with her soulmate, “Xena…”

“Shush,” Xena said before kissing Gabrielle again, this time longer, and harder. She then stripped the undergarments off of the younger woman and tossed them carelessly behind her.

All that kissing had left the bard gasping for air and unable to fight back. It had also transferred the ink from Xena’s lips to Gabrielle’s. But the warrior was far from done. She proceeded to rub her face all over the bard’s, the way a cat, or a lioness, would do when marking its territory. The beast within her purred in satisfaction, Mine.

Gabrielle didn’t realise the warrior was marking her. She simply thought her soulmate was trying to get back at her for the prank. She squirmed, desperately trying to get away, but to no avail. “Xena! You’re getting ink all over me.”

“That’s kinda the point,” Xena said. “If I’m gonna have ink on me, then you should too. It’s only fair.” She then proceeded to kiss her way down one side of Gabrielle’s neck, breast, and stomach then up the other side, taking every opportunity she had to wipe the ink on her face onto her soulmate’s skin. When she was done, she leaned back to admire her masterpiece. “I was right. Ink does look good on you.”

Gabrielle looked down at herself. Her body was covered in random swirls and smears of ink. She had to admit—it did look kind of pretty. “You just couldn’t let it go, could you?”

Xena smirked. “Of course not.”

“You know we’re going to need another bath when we’re done here, don’t you?” Gabrielle said in mock exasperation.

“Oh, you can count on it.”

The two exchanged a knowing look. To the outside world, the pranks may seem unduly childish, and a way for them to get one up on the other. But it was nothing like that at all. It was their way of adding some much-needed levity to a life where they saw way too much violence and death. It was also their way of expressing their affection for each other—of saying ‘I love you’ in not so many words.

They kissed. This time, it was tender and warm.

When they finally came up for air, Gabrielle simply said, “Happy Birthday, Xena.”

It had been a long time since anyone had last wished her happy birthday—not since Lyceus had died fighting against Cortese and his army. That was nearly half a century ago. And Xena found that she actually liked the idea of having someone to share her birthday with once more. She flashed her soulmate a beatific smile. “I love you, Gabrielle.”

-THE END-