The Blender’s Bargain – Chapter 21

Archie

Mom’s face is a mask of shock, her eyes wide with a fear that mirrors my own churning gut.

“Archie!” Mom gasps, reaching towards me but stopped by her captors.

“Mom, what’s going on? Who are these people?” My voice shakes despite my effort to sound brave.

The man circles me like a predator. “The family resemblance is striking, isn’t it? Same stubborn chin.” He flicks my face with his finger. “Same magical potential.”

“Leave her alone,” Mom hisses. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, but she does.” He smirks. “Branwen’s lineage is rare. Two direct descendants? That’s a gift.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, looking between them. “What do you want from us?”

Mom’s eyes fill with tears. “They need our bloodline for the ritual. To break the seal in the mines.” A tear rolls down her cheek. “Well, to finish breaking the seal. The syzygy started it.”

“Smart lady,” the man says, patting her head. “Been trying to convince her to cooperate for a week. Maybe you’ll be more reasonable.”

He turns to a figure emerging from the diner’s shadowed kitchen. A woman. Tall, severe, with eyes like chips of obsidian. Her presence sucks the air from the room.

She stands with the practiced poise of someone accustomed to being obeyed. Her movements are fluid yet precise, each gesture deliberate and economical. Though dressed in simple clothes — dark jeans and a fitted button-down — she carries herself with regal authority. Her silver-streaked hair is pulled back in a tight bun, highlighting her sharp cheekbones and the cold calculation in her eyes. There’s something ancient about her gaze, as if she’s seen centuries pass while remaining untouched by time. This isn’t just some power-hungry cultist. This woman radiates magical energy like heat from a furnace, barely contained beneath her human facade.

“Vessa,” the man says, gesturing towards me. “Another one. Just like the mother.”

Vessa. Her gaze sweeps over me, cold and calculating. She stops, her eyes narrowing on my face, then flicks to my mother. A slow, cruel smile spreads across her lips.

“Branwen’s blood runs strong, it seems.” Her voice is smooth, hypnotic, but laced with menace. “Two descendants. Perfect. The alignment requires resonance.”

Alignment? Branwen? Mom gives a tiny shake of her head, a warning glance. Stay calm. Don’t react. Easier said than done.

“Bring them,” Vessa commands. The oily man nods at my captors.

Rough hands haul me to my feet. I stumble, catching my balance as they shove me beside Mom. Alas, this was not the rescue I had planned. The two enthralled guards stand close, their vacant eyes unnerving.

“This is all such bullshit,” Mom says, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands. “You’re a modern woman. What makes you think you know anything about magic?”

Vessa laughs, a low, chilling sound. “I’ve spent my whole life doing this research. The syzygy was only the beginning.”

“You’re delusional,” Mom spits out.

“Am I?” Vessa’s lips curl into a smile. “I was once like you — rational, skeptical. I thought I’d be a chef, you know. Had scholarships to culinary school and everything.” She traces a finger along the counter. “Then I found those ancient texts in my parents’ basement. Family heirlooms, they said. Just old books.”

Her eyes gleam with fervor. “But they weren’t just books. They were instructions. Revelations about the Latarans and their magic. About Branwen.” She leans closer to Mom. “Your ancestor. My mentor, in a way.”

“You can’t possibly understand those texts,” Mom argues. “The language is —“

“Dead? Forgotten?” Vessa laughs. “Not to me. The words… they spoke to me. Showed me visions of what could be.” She straightens, smoothing her shirt. “I abandoned my knives for grimoires. Traded recipes for rituals. And now, after decades of preparation, the time has come.”

I glance at Mom, whose face has gone ashen. Whatever these texts revealed, whatever this woman believes, it’s enough to terrify someone as brave as my mother.

“The next set of celestial bodies will align soon. The power beneath Rumblestone will be unleashed. And you two” — she gestures between us — “will be the keys.”

Keys? Power? What is she talking about? My panic spikes.

The pieces click together in my mind with terrifying clarity. The syzygy, the vortices in Stellura, the possessed bicycles in Brimlow, the strange behavior of the townspeople here — it’s all connected to what Vessa is trying to do. She’s using the celestial alignments to break some ancient seal, tapping into the same dark magic that caused those rifts back home. And now she needs us — Mom and me — because we’re descendants of this Branwen person.

Do I have magic? Actual, real magic flowing through my veins?

No. This can’t be.

Yet…

Ysroth. He must have known. Is this why he appeared in my blender? Because he recognized something in me, some latent power passed down through generations?

God, I wish Garrick were here. He’d have some literary reference to make sense of all this madness. But I left him behind, thinking I was protecting him. What a mistake that was.

“It’s too bad the ritual we performed at the syzygy didn’t work like we intended. I didn’t realize just how much I needed the bloodlines to make it work.” She pauses a moment to think, then nods. “Take them to the mines,” Vessa orders the guards. “Secure them until it’s time. We have one more chance at this. Let’s not get it wrong.”

The enthralled men grab our arms and tug. Their grips are like iron vises, and they pull us towards the door. I dig my heels in, struggling against their unnatural strength.

“No! Let us go!” I shout.

Suddenly, an angry voice bellows from my backpack, which sits on the counter where they tossed it.

“Unhand her this instant, you mindless puppets!” Ysroth’s voice booms, unnaturally loud for something trapped in a blender. “How dare you manhandle the descendant of Branwen!”

Vessa freezes, her eyes widening as she stares at my backpack. “What is that?”

The lead man shrugs. “We didn’t search it —“

“Fools!” Ysroth interrupts. “You meddle with forces beyond your comprehension! Hear me now: Aquatis Vorterum, Liberatum Spiritus!”

The ancient words echo through the diner with resonance that crawls over my skin. The enthralled guards twitch and stutter like malfunctioning robots, their grips loosening on our arms.

“Mentis Fracturum!” Ysroth continues, his voice growing stronger with each syllable. “Aquatis Surgere!”

Vessa’s composure cracks. “Silence that thing!” she hisses, genuine fear flashing across her face. “He’s disrupting my control spell!”

The oily man lunges for my backpack, but it skitters away on its own, sliding across the counter as Ysroth continues his incantation.

“Potentia Aquae, Venite Ad Me!”

Vessa’s eyes widen in panic. “No! Stop him before he —“

Fear coils tight in my chest, a frantic bird beating against my ribs. The tingling sensation I felt in the car returns, stronger now, a buzzing energy under my skin. It races up my arms, down my spine. The air crackles around me.

A loud bang echoes through the diner.

Everyone freezes.

Under the counter near the sinks, a thick pipe bursts open with explosive force. I blink and suddenly the diner is a water park. Water gushes out, spraying across the floor, soaking the guards. They stagger back, confused, their programmed movements disrupted by the sudden deluge.

Chaos erupts. The man in charge shouts orders, his voice cracking with panic as he slips on the wet floor, arms windmilling. Guards stumble around, their programmed movements glitchy in the face of unexpected water. One crashes into a table, sending plates and mugs shattering across the tile. Another stumbles and falls hard.

Vessa spins around, eyes flashing with fury. “Control them!” she hisses at her man, who’s frantically trying to shut off the water main. Her clothes are getting soaked, her composure cracking. For a split second, something inhuman flickers across her face — shadows too dark to be natural — before she masks it again.

Mom catches my eye and jerks her head towards the door. A silent question: Can we make a break for it?

We both take a step back towards the door, but the guards are quick again. They lunge for us before we make it another step. We’re still outnumbered, and those vacant-eyed guards might be clumsy, but they’re strong. We need a better plan.

Water pools around my feet, cool against my ankles. I stare at the broken pipe, then down at my trembling hands. Did I… did I do that?

Mom’s expression is unreadable, but there’s a flicker, a spark of something knowing in her gaze.

Yes. That was me. Holy shit.

The moment of chaos is fleeting. Vessa snaps her fingers, a sharp command cutting through the noise. The guards regain their composure, their movements focused once more. The lead man grabs a rope from behind the counter.

“Bind them,” Vessa orders, her voice tight with controlled rage. “And confiscate that noisy contraption.”

A guard snatches the backpack containing Ysroth. He screams incoherently.

“No!” I lunge forward, but the other guard grabs me, twisting my arm behind my back. Pain shoots up my shoulder.

They bind our hands behind our backs, the rough rope biting into my wrists. My heart has raced away, run out of my chest and down the hill. Without Ysroth… I’m alone. Vulnerable.

“Move!” The guard shoves me forward.

We’re marched out of the diner, blinking in the harsh sunlight. The shuffling townspeople don’t register us, lost in their enchantment. Vessa follows close behind, her dark eyes fixed on us. She won’t let us out of her sight until we’re secured.

I’m marched forward, my mind a whirlwind of terror and disbelief. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. I came to save Mom, and now we’re both captives of this deranged woman.

What the fuck, Archie? I was supposed to be having a relaxing summer vacation!

The rope burns against my wrists, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest. Garrick was right. I should never have left him behind. What was I thinking, that I could handle this alone?

And that burst of magic… fuck, it terrifies me. The power surged through me like electricity, wild and untamed. If I truly am descended from these ancient magicians, what else am I capable of?

The thought both thrills and horrifies me, in equal amounts. I’m thrilled to have some kind of talent that doesn’t involve separating squabbling children, and I’m horrified my ancestor was some kind of dark magician.

No, that is not Archie Sapnu.

All my life I have been ordinary Archie, the reliable teacher. Now I’m what? Some magical descendant meant to be sacrificed in a ritual? God, I wish I’d listened to Garrick.

I wish he were here.

I wish I weren’t so damn scared.

The low vibration I felt earlier intensifies as we approach the mine entrance, a gaping maw in the side of the dusty mountain. The air grows heavy, thick with an unseen energy that presses down on me, making it hard to breathe.

Dread coils deep in my stomach. This place hums with power, ancient and dark. And Vessa intends to use Mom and me to unleash it.

My newfound water magic — it’s real. Ysroth’s incantations set it off, and Mom’s look confirmed it. But it burst out in panic, uncontrolled. Can I harness it? Can I learn, fast enough, to fight back?

We reach the yawning entrance to the mine. The cool, damp air spilling out smells of earth, old and dangerous.

Vessa gestures us forward, into the darkness. My feet are like lead weights. I want to protest, sit down, and not move, but I know resisting is useless. I glance at Mom, her face pale but resolute. We exchange a look. Fear, yes. But determination too.

What ancient evil waits inside this mountain?