Runa squeezed Fia’s hand. “We’ll all be fine. We won’t be long.” Ahrek led them through an open doorway, and soon they turned a corner and were out of sight.
“The Shadows told you to seek out the Tahjiik, I assume?” Okwata asked as he manoeuvred his chair around to lead the way. “I’m sorry if you were expecting more. The others all left, a long time ago.”
The hairs on the back of Fia’s neck stood up as she and Maab followed Okwata through more stone corridors. Soft blue lights were attached to the stone and illuminated their way. “They left? Where did they go?”
“Anywhere and everywhere,” Okwata said with a soft laugh. He’d switched to Asharian, Fia realised, but how she could tell, she still didn’t understand. Her language skills had improved even just in the time since she’d returned to Ohinyan. And she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made the switch to Asharian so that Maab couldn’t understand their conversation.
The white tiger moved silently behind her, only the occasional huff of breath let her know he was still there. A room was lit up ahead as if bright daylight were pouring through a window. Okwata wheeled his way into the room and Fia stepped through after him into—“a glasshouse? How is this possible?”
Maab roared behind her as he entered the laboratory.
“Maab, what’s wrong?”
“Forgive me,” Okwata said in the common tongue. “I wasn’t sure if he would feel it. Very sensitive, aren’t you, wild one?”
Maab bared his teeth at Okwata, stalking around Fia to stand in front of her defensively.
“Fear not, my friend. You may simply walk back through any time you choose. I find the climate to be more agreeable here.” Okwata had already turned away from Maab, wheeling his chair towards a large table. Plants hung from everything—metal beams, planters fixed to glass panels on the walls, they wrapped around pillars and up table legs. Beyond the panels of glass, outside—wherever outside was, was bright and lush, not like the half-light Fia had become accustomed to in the last few days.
“Okwata, I don’t understand, please—” Fia began.
“My laboratory does not reside within Ohinyan.”
Fia raced to the nearest glass wall, her heart thumping in her chest. “Is this, are we on Earth?”
Okwata laughed again and spun his chair around to join Fia by the window. “No. This isn’t Earth or Ohinyan. This is Ornax.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fia
“ Ornax,” Fia repeated. This was it—an opportunity to relocate the people of Ohinyan. Her head was full of questions. There were many worlds, a witch had told her so not too long ago. But passing between them… “I don’t understand, how can we pass freely between Ohinyan and Ornax—I was told not even all the witches can pass from Ohinyan to Earth, only the angels can do that. How is this possible?”
A giant blue butterfly, as large as Fia’s hand, landed on a plant outside the glasshouse, resting on a leaf that swayed in a breeze. “How has this window not closed, when the ones to Earth have?”
“All very good questions,” Okwata said. He held his hands together, fingertips touching at a peak. He’d switched to Asharian again and followed Fia’s gaze to the butterfly. “Do you know who you are?”
Fia gave a sideways glance to Maab who sat on his hind legs beside her, also keeping a close eye on the butterfly. Do you know who you are? She let out a breath. “I know who I want to be.” Or rather, who she didn’t want to be. Like Lorn.
“And you know you have untapped power?” Okwata asked, looking up at her. A smile broke across his face, and his brown eyes were bright.
She stared at her hands for a moment, considering her words. “I feel something, yes. But I don’t want to be a Makya, like Lorn. I don’t want to be some uncontrollable force of destruction.”
Okwata laughed and wheeled his chair back towards the table. “I don’t think anyone wants that, Fia. Lorn is well known throughout Ohinyan. She has her part to play in what’s to come—but have no doubt, the prophecy is about you.”
Fia let out a quiet whistle. “No pressure then.” She followed him to the table—books and papers were sprawled across it, vials of coloured liquid and small glass dishes.
Beyond the table was a workbench that ran as far as Fia could see—equipment and metal objects covering every inch of it.
“The sun is dying. The windows to Earth are closing. The ancient darkness is free.” Okwata closed a few books and stacked them neatly to one side. He pulled a large, blank piece of paper towards him, and dipped a pen into a dish of black ink.
They were running out of time. How long did the people of this world have? Okwata drew a large circle on the page, and then another and another. He drew other circles, some interlinking, some overlapping entirely. “There are many worlds, as you know. Some overlap with each other, some, like Ohinyan, touch more than one world that does not touch the other.” Three circles overlapped each other as he scribbled on the page: Ohinyan in the centre, on its left, Ornax, and on its right, Earth. “Ornax and Earth do not overlap.”
“So to access some worlds, you would have to… to walk through others to reach them?”
“That’s correct. From Ohinyan to Earth, Terah sealed off access for all but the angels and a handful of witches. And with good reason—she was trying to protect Earth. To protect the world she created.” He opened a tattered book and handed it to Fia. A faded drawing of a red-headed woman and an angel with grey wings stood before an archway, revealing an ocean beyond.
Terah and her brother Gabriel, the first angel, Fia thought. The fire mother will rekindle the sun. She remembered the Shadow’s words, and something twisted in her gut. Dante had told her… but… it was all a lie, wasn’t it? Even if she was Terah’s descendant… that didn’t make her the fire mother, did it? She cleared her throat and glanced at Maab sitting beside the table. The table was low, low enough that Okwata could work from it from his chair, but Maab towered over it easily, easily enough to see all the papers and books scattered across it. “Protect Earth… from what?”
Okwata made a huffing sound, almost a laugh. “From magic. A little still made it through with the witches who followed her. Many were killed—Earth has never been kind to witches. But a few remained, their descendants still exist today.” He wheeled himself around to the other side of the table and picked up another book. “But that is not relevant here. What is relevant is this: Earth is much larger than Ohinyan. Many more windows exist than the ones the angels know of—not all of them are closed.”
Many more windows exist. Fia thought of Alexander, of running back down to the harbour for her wings so she could fly back to Earth and search for him. But she had a responsibility, they all did. “So we can relocate the people of Ohinyan before the sun dies—to Ornax?”
“We can, if absolutely necessary, yes. But our hope is that it won’t come to that. Our hope is that the fire mother will rekindle the sun.” He held her gaze, but she couldn’t read his expression.
He knows. Fia looked to Maab. Okwata had still been speaking in Asharian, so Maab would only have understood what he’d seen in the diagrams. Fia bit down on her bottom lip, turning over questions in her head. “And what about Erebus?”
“The fire mother will face the ancient darkness. Only she can unite Ohinyan against what’s to come.” He slid another book across the table, pages open. Another drawing, this one depicted Terah, much like depictions of Gaia on Earth. Animals and cherubs surrounded her, and they sat within a bubble, outside which dark shadows swarmed.
Fia rubbed at her temples, wandering over to Okwata’s workbench. Metal cogs and screws were scattered beside pins and pieces of metal, along with dozens and dozens of small metal spheres. “What are these?” She picked one up, turning it over in her hands. It had a quality to it not unlike the wingsuit—not unlike Okwata’s chair either. Small pieces of copper-coloured metal formed the whole, but the surface was perfectly smooth.
“Twist it.”
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sp; Fia did as he said, and with two hands twisted the metal ball. A light escaped from it, hovering above the sphere in an arc until a woman’s face appeared, speaking in a language Fia could only make out a few words of. It was like a projector or a holographic image. “A pre-recorded message? How many of these do you have?”
Okwata wheeled over to the workbench, a broad grin across his face. “Hundreds of them.”
Fia’s head was spinning. If the angels would carry the devices across Ohinyan, she could speak to as many people and creatures as possible—she could send pre-recorded messages—explain to them what was happening, where they could go if they all needed to escape. “But we can’t get the whole world to relocate through just one window?”
“Runa and Malachai are looking at maps as we speak. The observatory houses maps of all the windows across Ohinyan, to Earth and Ornax, some to other worlds. But Ornax is our only viable option, for now.” He was piling more spheres into his lap. “My sources tell me the angels and the witches have struck an alliance with the Makya—that the Makya have pledged to maintain temperatures across Ohinyan. These devices will help you to achieve that, they will stop people running in fear from the Makya when they arrive to help.”
“So we can help everyone when the sun dies. But how long for? Wouldn’t relocating everyone now be a better option? What if the third sun doesn’t appear… what if Ohinyan stays in darkness? Everyone will die.” Fia couldn’t comprehend it. So many would die. A world in total darkness? Nothing would survive, even with the Makya’s help, surely. She patted her pocket to check for Dante’s phone as an idea began to take shape.
“Relocation is a last resort. And none will blindly leave their home without good reason. This will help gain Ohinyan’s trust, first and foremost.” He placed another sphere on the table. “This means we can warn them about Erebus too. He’ll be recruiting. We can let people know that whatever he’s promised is a lie. That he is nothing more than a plague upon this world.” Okwata’s eyes turned from brown to amber for a moment, and Maab bared his teeth and stepped forward.
“Maab, it’s fine, please. He was just getting riled up about Erebus.” Fia walked back over to the wall of the glasshouse. “Can I go outside? I need some air.”
Okwata pointed to an opening in the glass Fia hadn’t spotted before. “Please.”
She didn’t wait for him, or for Maab, although she knew he’d be silently following close behind. She just needed a moment to gather her thoughts. Warm air hit her the moment she stepped outside, and the sun was bright in a clear blue sky. A floral, fruity smell carried to her from the trees—lush green leaves with flowers like jewels hanging from them. They might have been smaller plants growing within the trees, Fia couldn’t tell. More of the enormous blue butterflies landed from flower to flower, dwarfing the petals entirely. She followed a smooth path—it’s surface like polished rock, as she worked her way through her thoughts.
You could go back to look for Alexander. But she knew she couldn’t. Not until this was all over. What we achieve here now will be what’s left of us. Arion’s words played over and over on repeat. She had a part to play in all of this, whether she wanted it or not. She drew in deep breaths and ran her hand along the gold cuff at her wrist. This was something, as close to a plan as they could get. If everyone worked together and played their part, Ohinyan might be saved. But what about Earth? What about the missing angels? What about Alexander?
She reached for the phone in her pocket. She didn’t know much about technology, but she knew they used radio waves to transmit and receive signals. What if the devices could be modified to do that too?
Fia followed the path until the trees and bushes thinned out, down a shallow incline towards an open courtyard. Her breath caught in her throat as she stepped towards a low, white wall at the far end. Beyond it, as far as she could see, stretched a plain, overflowing with wildlife and water holes. There were zebra-like creatures and horned beasts nibbling grass, emerald birds and small, grey animals that drank at the waterside.
Maab stepped up beside her, his breathing slightly heavier in the warmth of the sun. The white of his fur was pristine, his black stripes a stark contrast. He turned his enormous head to look at her, his irises tiny slits amongst his pastel green eyes. He blinked once, twice. It was the most affection he’d voluntarily show anyone, besides Enne, she was sure of it.
“You want to go and stretch your legs? Go on, I’ll be fine.”
Maab sat on his hind legs. “Sometimes we have to set aside our desires for the needs of others.”
“So you understand what those devices are for then? We can help Ohinyan, Maab. We could really make a difference here.” She waved the phone at him, not that he would know what it was.
“We can and we will,” he said, his ears twitching as he spoke.
The sound of wheels against the pathway grew closer. “What is that you hold?” Okwata pulled up beside her, looking out at the plains below.
“It’s a mobile phone,” Fia said, handing it to him. “It’s a device we use on Earth for two-way communication. We can receive messages, or we can have a live conversation. It works by broadcasting signals across radio waves. I have to be honest, I don’t understand much more than that, but I wondered if your devices could be modified for two-way communication?”
Okwata turned the phone over in his hands. “Fascinating. I don’t approve of the composite casing though.”
“The—oh, you mean the plastic? Yeah, we’re not too happy about that on Earth either.”
“I have witnessed something like you describe. Generated by lightning and astronomical events I’ve seen from the laboratory.”
Fia clicked her fingers. “Yes, electromagnetic, that’s it. Do you think you could work something out?”
Okwata rubbed at his chin. “I have research on this already—yes, I believe I could make a modification.” He rested the phone in his lap as a breeze blew, sending white petals cascading past them like snow. He caught one in his palm. “The angels could command the winds, many years ago.”
“They had magic?” Fia asked. Dante had said as much. It was becoming more and more difficult to separate the truth from the lies.
“All could wield the elements, once, it is said.” He spoke in Asharian again, so Maab couldn’t understand, Fia presumed. “It’s long been called magic. But there’s a science to it too.”
Science and magic. That’s what Dante had said about the wingsuit. So it hadn’t all been lies then.
“But some had an affinity for it. Terah. The angels. The Makya. The water wielders in the south. For the Makya, fire is as much a part of them—part of their physical makeup. It’s who they are.”
“Are you saying it’s who I am too?”
“The fire mother wasn’t like Lorn, Fia. She breathed life, she created. She nurtured. Her power was unprecedented—but she made a choice, to use it for good. We all make that choice.” Okwata placed his hands on the wall. “Look over it.”
Fia looked over the wall and below, to a bed of pink flowers that sloped down towards the plains.
“Only the fire mother can rekindle the sun. But you need to prepare yourself—you must be ready.” The flowers began to double, treble, and the vines they grew amongst extended up over the wall and along it, pink flowers unfurling along with it.
She reached out a hand and a tiny vine wrapped around her fingers, a pink flower blossoming in her palm. A vine reached towards Maab, too, and he swatted it away with a paw.
“Whatever happens, it is imperative that you practice.”
Fia looked at her hands. She hadn’t told the others yet—how could she explain it, without telling them about Dante? That she just knew, that it was nothing more than a feeling? But Okwata knew too.
Ahrek, Runa and Malachai approached, the two angels’ arms full of rolled papers. Fia glanced between them and her hands.
Okwata wheeled his chair around and followed her gaze. “You haven’t told them?”
&
nbsp; She shook her head.
Okwata switched to the common tongue. “I will work on the modifications. Your friends can transport the devices across Ohinyan. We will need all the cooperation we can get from your allies.” He looked to the angels as he spoke. “Fia can communicate with the men and creatures of Ohinyan from here, I will help her.”
From here? She couldn’t stay behind and put her friends in danger. Not again. “But what—”
Okwata motioned to silence her. “You have a prophecy to fulfil. Ohinyan’s fate lies in your hands.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Alexander
T he little flecks of blue light hung in the air around Alexander as he approached Yggdrasil. There was no sound, no breeze, no dripping of water. The air was cool, and when he looked up all he could see was the glittering display above him, roots overlapping with worlds and more of the tiny blue orbs.
Alexander flew over a large root. A thin layer of fog blanketed the ground so he couldn’t see what was underneath it. Perhaps it was simply night here. Wherever here is. A warm white light up ahead was the only indication of where to go, so Alexander made his way towards it. As he flew closer, he could make out an opening at the base of the tree from where the light was pouring out. A way in. He sheathed his sword and stepped inside. It was a passageway of tree roots, bathed in the white glow.
Along the roots were paintings: angels, trees, bubbles—worlds. Maps of land masses and shapes, rivers and mountains running through them filled the passageway as he walked, strange worlds he didn’t know of. Then a land mass Alexander recognised—Iraluxia, in the heart of Ohinyan, with small circles over it in locations he knew. Windows. He ran his hand along the rough wood. It wasn’t just a map of Ohinyan. It was a map of all the windows in Ohinyan.
Earth was much larger than his world—he was well aware of it, and Sophie had told him not all windows to Ohinyan were closed. Fia. He could see her again. He could keep his promise. He could tell her all the things that had been turning over in his thoughts since they’d said goodbye. He walked on, and the paintings showed more maps of his world, more locations of windows—many he hadn’t known existed. The paintings changed back to angels again and to a red-headed woman. Terah. The roots still wrapped and twisted over each other, and Alexander followed the passageway towards the source of the light.
The Eternal Dusk (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Two) Page 18