The Immortal City

by May Peterson

  He had stood under the fading sun and said, I promise this. I will not leave you behind. When all else may have given me up for dead, he had come for me.

  And he had not failed.

  Stay with me.

  The promise was fulfilled. All he’d asked of me was to not let go of his hand, even if I did not remember him.

  This was the Hei that stood by me now, staring out at the abyss. The Hei that had jumped. The Hei that had stayed with me, who had breathed life back into me. That shone, clean and strong as a sunrise, in the new fullness of my memory. I was empty no more!

  One last memory solidified, as my life came roaring back. Hei and me, under the shade in the trees behind the orphanage. Hei took the carving knife we’d smuggled from the work room and, grinning his indefeasible grin, began scratching something into a piece of wood. Not just any wood, but a medallion. My medallion, with my orphan name on one side. I had carved Hei into his. When he lifted up the medallion, eyes bright with victory, Ari was written on its smooth side. It was our promise never to forget who we were, where we’d come from. Hei was always there, giving my self back to me.

  My promise too was fulfilled.

  The wildfire was descending. A tsunami of destruction bearing down on me, on Kaiwan, on the half-real avatars of our loves. It was the despair that had taught me and Kaiwan both how weak it could make us. It came now to crush us once and for all.

  I had been wrong about the path again. It had not led me merely to revenge, a symbolic victory. Hei had carried the flame of his heart, his conviction when hope was gone, across the earth so he could light mine again. So my spirit would live once more. And now, I held that light to share it with Kaiwan.

  Hundreds of Heis rushed into being, dotting the darkness like stars. Thousands, tens of thousands, innumerable fragmented seconds resurrected in me. They all gathered now to turn the tide back. But it was not just Hei. Countless other faces, each as solid and as strong. Women in blue habits, singing nursery songs to me. The orphanage children, the women in the streets, smiling wryly while we danced. Even Midouan and her wry wisdom, Tamueji and the way she had turned to my aid at the last. The shapes of every brown-eyed boy and dark-haired girl that had once filled up my life.

  Some faces I recognized only from Kaiwan’s memory. Her hand was firmer now around mine, as if something had given her strength back. As if she could face it all, like me, like Hei, one more time. They gathered in multitudes, moments of love beyond number.

  There was no answer to the horrors she had faced. But there might be a different one, an answer to the logic of loss. An answer that flushed me with joy, with gratitude, as much as it did with sorrow. That in some pocket of eternity, in the place the mist met the earth, I would always be there, waiting to meet Hei. That I too would not leave it all for dead. That my heart had received Hei’s gift. That I loved him.

  That, in spite of everything, it was still enough.

  The tide of fire struck. Its sudden impact dazzled me, but I saw clearly nonetheless. Saw the infinite versions of Hei—of all my loved ones, my fellow castaways, of Kaiwan’s many loves and losses—spring forward to intercede. As one, they stood against the fire. Its force ravaged through them, disintegrating them into sparks. And yet they were only moments, unable to be destroyed. Nothing was truly lost. Each was merely a different story, and somewhere they were all remembered.

  Kaiwan and I held on as new multitudes appeared, shielding us from the flames. The darkness had become a firmament of explosions, of fragile new stars. In it, I felt something loosen. It took me a moment to realize I had let go. Kaiwan’s hand no longer touched mine.

  “Ari!” Her cry was already distant.

  I fell, suddenly, unendingly, without her contact to keep me there. It was not flame that immersed me—but darkness.

  * * *

  The darkness became the insides of my eyelids. Cool air caressed my nostrils. Slowly, I blinked into awareness.

  I was lying on my back. The skylight above Kaiwan’s dais streamed sunbeams, leaving a mild tingle across my face. But I had not been burned. In fact, the pain of Hei’s blood and bandages was entirely gone.

  My hand slid over my skin, feeling my wounds, the places that still hurt. I was whole. Had I passed the test? The abrupt absence of Kaiwan’s touch startled me. Panic began its whir in my bloodstream, and I almost jolted up.

  Except a weight was lying on my right arm. Hei’s body. He was sprawled over me, my arm around him, as though he were merely sleeping. For a moment, I dared hope that he was, and that this had been a dream. But his eyes stared on emptily. Mourning rose up in me, all over again.

  But then another sensation seized my attention. Silence. No crashing, no fighting, no cries or screams. Cradling Hei’s body to my chest, I tilted up on an elbow.

  All other motion in the room had stopped, as if some force captured one second in time. Tamueji was reared up, wings splayed, and a bloody arm was caught in her beak. Two smaller crow-shaped fighters were poised under her. The human-shaped crow-souls were scattered, some lying inert, others frozen mid-stride. Even the air felt somehow sleepy.

  It seemed I was the only one who could still move. Just then, a faint light caught my eye. I turned to the right, twisting to face Kaiwan’s mechanism at the back of the room.

  I’d been wrong. Kaiwan stood there, gazing up to the skylight. She, too, was not frozen. Her breath was audible, uneven but smoothing out, as if she had recently cried and was only now finding calm.

  The light wasn’t from the sun, or her device. Instead, it radiated from her, every line of her body pulsing with energy. It was as though she had swallowed the moon, and was exuding its serene glow in its place.

  Slowly, Kaiwan’s face adjusted to meet my gaze. It shocked me. She wasn’t weeping, didn’t appear heartbroken. Nor was she solemn or blank. I was so afraid that maybe I had failed, but her expression confirmed that I had no need to fear.

  A smile as broad as the dawn shone on her face. A smile that wavered, broke, formed again, burgeoning with joy. Silent tears sparkled in her eyes.

  “Ari.” When she spoke, the sound of it rolled over me like waves. The grandeur I had seen in her now flowed outward as a physical force. “It is enough.”

  I had endured.

  “No words can ever suffice to thank you for what you have done.” Her speech shivered off the walls, mingled with the gentle light. “But know that the hour has come at last.”

  With that, she lifted one hand, spreading her fingers. The gesture seemed to signal the turn of the earth. For in that moment, the light flared. A tremor shook the floor, seemed to shake the entire mountain. The somnolent air began to dance, becoming a breeze.

  I looked down. Now the light rose not merely from Kaiwan, but from Hei. Colors played over him, flecks of green and blue and gold. His body lightened in my arms, as though he were translating into light. The shudders of the mountain became a quiet melody, all rhythms falling into place.

  The wash of sunlight from the roof dimmed, then brightened again, undulating in intensity. It was as if the sun and moon were rapidly trading places in the sky, Kaiwan unbinding their steps. The glow from Hei mounted until I had to cover my eyes.

  A new sound touched my ears. The sound of Kaiwan laughing. Sweetly, boldly, mixed with tears. Laughter merged with the rhythm, its power caressing the pain from my limbs. She spoke again, and her voice thundered from all sides. “It is enough!”

  Hei’s body moved. A breath was drawn. The light dwindled, sparing my eyes. The breeze rushed over us, and a hand grazed my face.

  “Ari?”

  I gasped, afraid for a moment to open my eyes. Please let this be real. Please—

  Arms were thrown around me, soft hair brushed my chin. Hei’s weight lay over mine, and the shaking of this tender boy, crying his eyes out, roused my courage. I opened them upon the fading spangle of ligh
ts around him. His body, strong and healthy and renewed, tangled up with mine.

  I hugged him and did not let go. I cupped the back of his neck, which was straight and smooth. His skin was free of wounds, and the scent of him was like spring.

  Kaiwan’s laughter had not ended. We both turned to look at her; splendor bled off her like perfume. Magic lifted her into the air, so that as she drifted across the room, her feet did not touch the floor.

  The cracks in the stone mended as she floated above them, her laughter echoing off the walls. Blood vanished from each darkened surface. Overturned tables righted themselves, broken bottles and stones self-repairing. The bodies of those who had been felled rose, vanished. One by one, the hostile crow-souls disappeared like heat-shimmers. After a moment, only Tamueji remained. She Kaiwan swept a hand over, wiping away each wound in an instant.

  Hei was alive, and he was with me now. He had not failed me—and I had not failed him.

  I held him in my arms while we beheld Kaiwan’s miracle, swelling up like a new season.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I carried Hei out of the mountain.

  I just couldn’t bear the thought, right then, of letting him go. He giggled softly while I bundled him in my arms, nuzzled his cheek. “I’m all right,” he said, breath stroking my earlobe. “I’m here.”

  I kissed his temple. “And here you’re going to stay.”

  The path was lit as never before, as if the entire mountain had been transmuted into diamond aglow with an inner light.

  Tamueji had shed her crow-shape rather quickly. Her solemn crow eyes had been intense with human emotion, and as her feet and hands reformed, she bowed on the stones.

  Kaiwan floated over her like a crystalline butterfly, dropping a blanket onto her. Tamueji swaddled it around her, looking up as if in reverence.

  “I remember.” Something like awe glistened in her voice. “I remember...who I am. Who I was.”

  “That is your doing.” Kaiwan’s words rippled outward in self-harmony, as if the stones themselves were speaking with her. “Yours and Ari’s. Your lord of crows possesses the godhood no more.”

  Tamueji’s eyes turned then to me, as if seeing me for the first time. “Is it...over?”

  I glanced at Hei, the wonder on his face, the way Kaiwan was casting her illumination out into the world like a small sun. And I nodded. “I think it is.”

  Kaiwan had seemed pleased. She’d said that the danger was gone. She was sovereign over this mountain again, at least for now. And we would meet again soon.

  So I took to flight outside, unafraid of what the air held, the sun drawing its scouring eye over me. But it was so much less than the pain I had already endured, and would have gladly endured again. The judgment in that light was gone.

  Back at my home, everything looked different. The shadows and colors of my mortal life seemed to overlay these familiar shapes, give them a depth and richness I had not known before. And yet this place was still just as much home as any before it. I was not a new person. This had been my shelter, when I had so badly needed it. The last two years of my life still mattered. More than I could say.

  I set Hei down light on his feet, touching our foreheads together. “I remember you too.” I could not fight the mix of euphoria and sorrow that rose in my voice. “I remember it all.”

  Hei had nothing to say. Only my name, over and over, as tears made tracks down his cheeks. And he leaned into my embrace, taking my mouth, our breath and warmth mingling in a kiss.

  We lay in my bed and touched each other, hands reacquainting themselves with all the places that had been healed. My mind running over each memory that sprang forth, regaining the rise and fall of my life with every kiss and caress. We couldn’t seem to touch each other enough, be physically close enough. Here, too, I wanted to never let him go. When we were sated, we lay in the bleary shadows of my room, the day passing outside, and slept. So many tears had exhausted me. But it was safe to rest now. Hei’s body was pressed to mine, chest rising and falling gently, and the darkness this time was peaceful.

  We rose at dusk. The rising moon was almost as round as a pearl, pouring down its mercy like an echo of Kaiwan, reshaping the gloaming into something holy. We flew over the swell of the mountainside, reaching Bare-Sky Road and its chorus of keepers. Moonlight, gem-glow, and the shimmer of ghosts made the walls seem ephemeral, a thing of silken daydreams.

  Hei kept Lightray, wrapped in bandages and tucked away. We would need food and other supplies for the journey, but I was strong enough to carry it all. He had me now. We would endure.

  We had a precious few errands, but they seemed to fly by. I stopped to visit Midouan at her shop, sharply aware that like much of the city she would not know all that had transpired. But as I waved across her counter, she paused, frowned.

  “It’s been a while, Ari.” She glanced at Hei, smiling with interest. “May just be another of my hunches, but something seems different about you.”

  “Your hunches don’t seem to be often wrong.” We had a few minutes. Not so many I could tell the whole story, but I was able to watch her pleased reaction when I said I had my memory back.

  It seemed to be enough, for both of us. I could stay in contact with her. Maybe Kaiwan could give hers back as well. Now Midouan had time to decide.

  Kaiwan met us at Ancestor Rock. She wore a gown of pale blue, and a large pack was set on her back. A smile flickered across her face as she hailed us. We settled down beside her, on the tallest statue, so close to where I had first seen Hei that night that felt like a lifetime ago.

  Someone else waited with her. Tamueji. Her wings hanging down looked like indigo-stained petals clustered around her feet, and she had one hand tucked into the fold of her robe. She produced a somewhat awkward bow, as if she didn’t know how to face us now. After all that had happened, I found no blame to spare for her. She had preserved us, in the end. But the marks of guilt still showed on her face.

  “So you are all three going now.” Tamueji smiled faintly, perhaps somewhat anxiously, and scanned our faces. “Serenity will not be the same without its witch. But perhaps this is well, when all is said and done.”

  Kaiwan took Tamueji’s hand, which seemed to surprise the crow-soul. “I almost found my grave here. Mayhap one day I will return to this place; but for today, the path must be made new. I must find another answer. More hearts than mine depend on it.”

  “Thank you.” Hei stepped out from under my arm, gave his own bow to Tamueji. “Ari told me what you did.”

  “Yes, but—I...” She shook her head. “I understand my error now. I don’t know if that is enough. But I understand.”

  “Come with us.” I spoke before realizing I meant to, but it felt right. “Leave Serenity behind. You can have a new life.”

  Tamueji looked stunned. I spread my wings so that they hovered over Kaiwan and Hei alike. “I don’t know if anyone else’s memories will be restored now that the godhood has faded. But it may be that you and I are the only ones, and that we can find a way to give everyone back what they lost.”

  She chuckled wryly, seeming to consider it. “Yes. But... I think my new life is probably best begun here. So that the rest of the city will see that there’s a new sheriff in town.” She looked down at her hands. “I don’t have a godhood, but no one should have the power Umber did. And I remember. More than maybe almost anyone else in the flock. That may be enough.”

  I pulled Hei back into an embrace, sighing as he looped arms around me. To Tamueji, I smiled. “I think it will be. More than enough.”

  Kaiwan was still holding Tamueji’s grasp, and she let it go. “This will be farewell, then. But we may meet again. For what good it may do, I believe that you could well have passed the test.”

  Tamueji closed her arms around herself. “Maybe. What will you do, then?”

  It was clear she wasn’t sim
ply asking one of us. Kaiwan, Hei, and I shared glances, and I cleared my throat. “I don’t know. Hei and I will return to the orphans and the community we knew, for now. There are still children in need. Kaiwan can stay with us as long as she wishes.”

  Hei reached over and poked the witch’s arm. “We might be able to go somewhere for you too. A way to thank you for what you’ve done.”

  Kaiwan’s brows shot up, and she laughed lightly. “Ah. Truly—do not thank me.”

  Tamueji returned to the city, waving as she dwindled to the size of a brushstroke. I already missed her. She had been willing to be a true friend, in the end. Maybe she would again.

  Kaiwan shifted to face us. “I want you to understand. Hei’s resurrection is as real as yours. I have mended time. Neither of you are under a spell. No power will come to wipe away the change I have wrought—well, at least that is no more possible than it ever was. Each version of time is equally real. This is the life we live in now. It is no less true than any of the others.”

  Hei wiped his eyes, beads of gleaming emotion fresh in them. “And you? What about your magic, and your heart?”

  Her expression was thoughtful, but not unhappy. “I must be sparing with my powers yet. But you have given me a great gift. It will take much more than a matter of weeks and one miracle to spend that gift.” She looked up at the gate. “I have rewoven some things about this city. Some of the deeds Umber has done. Some of the lives that were nigh beyond help. A few, at least, will remember their lives now. I have also left some surprises for Tamueji, ones that will help her in reordering the night-streets. But none of this too greatly taxed me. I pray it will be well.”

  I understood. It was the same lesson taught to me as I made my way through the mist. The new present was in the process of creating itself. But we had gifts yet to give, and strength yet to spare. It was the end—and yet it would never be the end. Who I once was had saved me, but so had the person I had chosen to be now. The Ari that fought when hope was dead. He was real too. He mattered.