Chapter 18:The Bridge Between Worlds

Rowan stood atop Tower Bridge, the Thames churning beneath her in a storm of black and green energy. The avatar of Lir loomed before her, its watery form flickering between her grandmother's face and a colossal serpent. "Choose, daughter," it boomed, the voice echoing in her bones. "Guardian… or destroyer."

Her grip tightened on the Blood Vessel of Lir. The dagger's runes glowed in time with the ley line bomb's countdown—00:09:58—projected onto the Tower's walls. MacLeod's plan to erase London's supernatural entities surged through her mind, but so did Grampa's words: "Your grandmother believed balance was worth dying for."

"Balance," Rowan whispered. She raised the dagger, its tip trembling toward her chest. If I become the bridge…

Before she could strike, the ground shuddered. A geyser of black water erupted from the Thames, forming a scaled claw that shattered the bridge's steel beams. Níðhöggr's roar filled the air, its malice now fully merged with Ethan's consciousness.

"You cannot seal me," the dragon hissed through Ethan's lips. His body floated above the river, skin peeling away to reveal obsidian scales. "I am the flood."

Rowan staggered back. The Well of Segais' waters had transformed him into a hybrid—part human, part wyrm. His eyes, once warm and blue, now glowed with the dragon's eternal hunger.

"Ethan…" she breathed.

He tilted his head, the motion serpentine. "Ethan is gone. He chose to drown."

The avatar of Lir surged forward, its waters colliding with Níðhöggr's claw. The bridge groaned, chunks of stone plummeting into the river. Rowan clutched the dagger, her mind racing. The prophecy said I must become the bridge. But how?

A memory flashed: her grandmother's journal entry, scribbled in blood: "The Awen binds the three realms. Only a child of Lir can wield it." Rowan's gaze fell to the dagger's hilt—etched with the Celtic Awen symbol, three rays converging into a spiral.

She pressed her palm to the symbol. Pain seared through her hand, and the dagger's blade blazed white. Images flooded her mind: the Well of Segais, Cernunnos' antlered shadow, Níðhöggr coiled around the world tree. The Awen is the balance, she realized. Light, darkness, and the bridge between.

"Rowan!" Grampa's voice cut through the chaos. He limped onto the bridge, his shotgun smoking. "MacLeod's team is deploying the bomb. We have to stop him."

Rowan turned. Below, MI6 agents were planting charges along the riverbank. MacLeod stood at the helm of a hovercraft, shouting orders. The countdown ticked to 00:07:23.

"Go," she told Grampa. "I'll handle Ethan."

Grampa hesitated, then nodded. "Be careful. That thing's not Ethan anymore."

As he descended, Rowan faced the dragon. "Join me," Níðhöggr hissed. "Together, we'll drown this world and birth a new one."

Rowan raised the dagger. "I don't want to destroy. I want to balance."

The dragon laughed, a sound like ice cracking. "Balance is a lie. The stag and the serpent will tear your world apart."

Before Rowan could reply, the air chilled. Shadows coalesced behind Níðhöggr, forming a seven-foot-tall figure of tangled vines and antlers. Cernunnos' emerald eyes glowed. "The hunt begins."

Níðhöggr spun, its tail lashing. "You cannot stop me, horned one."

Cernunnos' antlers pulsed with green light. "Nor can you, wyrm. We are both prisoners of the Well."

Rowan's breath hitched. They're bound by the same seal.

The stag and the dragon charged, their collision shaking the bridge. Rowan stumbled, the dagger slipping from her grasp. It skittered toward the edge, glowing brighter with each pulse of Awen energy.

She dove for it, her fingers brushing the hilt just as the bridge tilted. Metal screeched, and the deck split. Rowan clung to the crumbling edge, the dagger clutched in her hand. Below, the Thames boiled with conflicting energies—Cernunnos' green and Níðhöggr's black swirling into a maelstrom.

"Now, daughter of Lir," Lir's avatar intoned. "Choose."

Rowan closed her eyes. Balance. Not destruction. Not submission. She pressed the dagger's tip to her chest, blood trickling down the blade. "I choose to be the bridge."

Light erupted from her body, blinding even the gods. The Awen symbol blazed on her forehead, and the Thames surged upward, forming a column of water that merged with the Well's energies. Cernunnos and Níðhöggr froze, their forms flickering as the seal reasserted itself.

"You cannot contain us," Níðhöggr roared.

Rowan's voice echoed with Lir's power. "I don't need to. I bind you."

The dagger's light expanded, weaving a lattice of energy between the stag and the dragon. Their struggles weakened, their forms dissolving into mist. The Well of Segais sealed shut with a thunderclap, and the Thames calmed.

But the ley line bomb's countdown continued—00:02:11.

Rowan staggered toward the Tower. Grampa was locked in combat with MacLeod, their punches echoing across the bridge. She raised the dagger, its light dimming. One last strike.

MacLeod saw her coming. "You think you've won? The bomb's already armed!"

Rowan ignored him, plunging the dagger into the bomb's control panel. Electricity crackled, and the countdown froze at 00:00:00. The charges went dark.

MacLeod's eyes widened. "Impossible."

Grampa slammed him to the ground. "You never understood the old ways, Colin. Magic isn't a weapon—it's a balance."

Rowan collapsed, the dagger's energy spent. Above her, the sky cleared, and the first rays of dawn broke through. Ethan's body floated toward her, his scales fading, his eyes closed.

"Ethan?" she whispered.

He opened his eyes—human once more. "Rowan… I'm sorry."

She pulled him into a hug. "You're alive."

"Barely," he coughed. "The dragon's gone… for now."

Grampa approached, his expression grave. "We need to leave. MI6 will regroup."

Rowan nodded, helping Ethan to his feet. As they turned to go, a shadow passed over them. A single antlered figure stood on the opposite bank, watching. Its gaze met Rowan's, and it inclined its head before vanishing into mist.