To him, I was already gone. Whether I was in the physical world or the aether, he’d never be able to hug me again. I’d be just a voice in his head or at best a ghostly manifestation like now.
But to me, the air around me was absolutely real. A light breeze caressed my cheeks, tinged with the fresh smell of wet stone recently bathed by the flood. The tile beneath me was cool and solid, and I didn’t even care that my foot was falling asleep.
I couldn’t hold on to it forever. I had to leave. But I couldn’t bear to release the power that had made me alive one last time. While fighting to close the gate, I hadn’t had time to mourn my lost life. Now, I didn’t have the strength. It would have to wait. I wouldn’t spend my last moments in the mortal realm washed in regret.
I wanted to feel the sea on my skin one last time. As I stood, knees shaky, another sensation gripped me. It had come and gone since we sealed the rift. A strange darkness, shifting within me. An echo of the Hollow One. Maybe I’d always feel it. I’d held the Hunger inside me. It was probably too much to hope I’d be entirely the same afterward.
Without the sucking hole in our world, the flood had drained from the lower terraces of the city, retreating until just a placid stream flowed out the channel connecting the harbor to the sea.
My legs ached as I descended the stairs toward the harbor. Rather than wince, I forced myself to enjoy the dull hurt. I’d miss the sensation of having a body. Even if what I felt now was just an illusion created by my duskweaving, it was real to me. I would likely never Need to take shape like this again.
Above, cracks of cooling stone peppered the air. The haze above Ioene’s summit still glowed a deep red, but no more lava spilled from her crown. The volcano was quiet. Subdued. It reminded me of the gentle, smoldering peak that had stood guard over Vanished civilization.
The air felt different, too. Maybe it was the absence of cinders or the lack of waves crashing against the outer shores. The sea had calmed, the storms quieted. I couldn’t be sure, but maybe Peldin’s long-ago prophecy had actually come true. Maybe Paono had truly been the key to healing the island. Paono and me together. With good fortune, the storm season and the frequent eruptions and the scorching long-day were all remnants of the first cataclysm.
Then again, we hadn’t done anything explicitly to heal whatever damage had been done. So maybe the current calm was nothing but the island resting after the battle.
The stone buildings and terracing on the lowest levels of the city were still damp. A few jellyfish had been abandoned by the receding water. I wanted to pick them up and help them back to the sea, but I knew my hand would only pass through them. I might feel the firmness of the skin covering the umbrella or the slimy, slippery tentacles. They might even sting. But like everything I sensed, it would be nothing but an illusion created by my magic.
I set one ratty sandal and then the other upon the quay. Using one of the stone bollards to steady myself, I sat on the edge of the waterfront, kicked off my sandals, and watched them float away on the lazy currents. I stretched my leg straight and sighed as my foot dipped into the cool water.
Footsteps crunched. Moments later, Paono took a seat beside me. It didn’t surprise me that he’d followed me, but the second set of footfalls did. Mieshk stood a few paces away, arms crossed over her narrow chest.
“We have something to talk to you about,” Paono said.
“Well, I suggest you hurry. I can’t hold my weave much longer.”
I scooted back from the edge and laid down, knees bent and soles of my feet pressed against the cold stone blocks.
“Just a moment,” he said. “Peldin wants a chance to speak.”
What is it? I asked into the aether.
Paono cleared his throat. A strange expression crossed his face. “I thought we could speak aloud this time,” he said.
“Peldin?” I asked.
Paono climbed to his feet then sketched a bow. “At your service.”
I raised an eyebrow and sat up. “Why?”
“Because I wanted you to see that entering the aether doesn’t mean you never feel the physical world again.”
Was he trying to make me feel better? Okay, so I’d be able to perceive the world. Maybe even spend a little time in it if I found a channeler willing to give me control of their body. Still, it wasn’t the same. I’d never feel Raav’s arms around me again. Not in the same way, at least, because he definitely wouldn’t feel the same about holding me if I were in someone else’s body.
But it wasn’t just about Raav.
“Thanks for trying,” I said. “But I just have to let go. I’ll be okay with it eventually.”
Peldin stretched, reaching Paono’s arms up and arching his back. “The aether’s really not so bad. You’ve spent some time in it already.”
I shrugged before wrapping my arms around my knees. His attempts at consoling me were starting to get annoying.
“Hey, Peldin, why did it have to be Paono and me sealing the rift? Nyralit kept her powers of compulsion when she died. And so did I. Why couldn’t you and Purviiv close the gate.”
He smiled a bit sadly. “Once in the aether, you can’t hold onto your magic forever. Eventually, it will pass on. A newborn human will inherit your ability. Whether that’s a gift or a curse to their new life is open to interpretation, I suppose.”
I nodded. Oh well. I’d had enough of magic for a while anyway.
“There’s a reason I’m telling you all this, Lilik, and it’s not what you think,” he said. Behind him, Mieshk shifted uncomfortably.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to share it,” I said. I had little time left and hated to waste it talking to someone I’d have an eternity to chat with.
He smirked. But the expression quickly vanished, replaced by a serious look that I hadn’t expected from him. “While you’ve been lazing around and moping here on the quay, we’ve been busy arguing about you.”
“Fantastic,” I said.
“You can thank Paono and me for winning the others to your side. But your biggest debt of gratitude goes to this young woman.” He stepped aside and gestured at Mieshk.
Peldin could be so infuriating in his tendency to withhold information. But I wouldn’t waste energy getting angry. Instead, I just looked at him expectantly.
“Our sort of magic has a long list of strictures and rules. Being self-taught, you haven’t had the opportunity to sit in a classroom and intone them over and over.”
I opened my mouth, intent on asking him to get to the point, but he raised a finger.
“It’s relevant, Lilik. Just listen. If you had learned the restrictions we impose on soul priestesses and priests, you’d know that a single taboo eclipses any other stricture. You’d even appreciate how difficult it was for me to convince the others to break it for you.”
I had to admit, he finally had my attention. A tiny spark of hope flickered in my chest. My eyes wandered to Mieshk, who now stood, awkwardly kneading the air with her long-boned fingers.
“Go on,” I said.
“In our distant past, before we became a civilized people, we called them darkborn. Souls who, rather than passing from the mortal realm when their time was done, managed to seize the body of a living person. Worse, with the cooperation of a life channeler with malleable Want, these darkborn managed to reshape the bodily vessel to their liking. I think you can understand why something like this might be taboo. Imagine parents with a terminally sick child. Further, imagine a doctor who has just lost his wife. What if that doctor refused to heal the child unless one of the parents relinquished their body to allow his wife’s reincarnation?”
“You’re saying I should take over someone’s body? Just jump in and kick them out?” My eyes flicked to Mieshk.
“In essence, yes, but it’s rather more complicated. You understand the raw power contained in a living spirit. You use that compressed vitality in your duskweaving. That much energy can’t simply be created. Only the miracle of birth can bring
it into the world, just as birth is the only way for magical talent to be handed down from a deceased soul to a new mortal. But if a source of vitality already exists, a soul can commandeer it, provided the current owner willingly relinquishes the body.”
I glanced again at Mieshk who stood with lips pressed together. She nodded in response but wouldn’t meet my eyes. It seemed almost as if she was afraid I’d reject her offer, that I’d find the thought of inheriting her body so appalling that I’d rather remain dead. She was wrong; no matter how much I’d hated her actions, no one was that irredeemable. But I just couldn’t allow her to make that kind of sacrifice.
“I can’t ask you to do that,” I said to her.
Finally, she met my eyes. “I don’t wish to kill myself. Despite what you might think of me, I hold myself in higher esteem than that. But I spent most of my life in a reality different from what others perceived. My madness was a constant veil through which I understood the world—I never belonged. To me, contact with the mortal realm matters less than the chance to start over. I’ll never have a fresh start among the Kiriilti, but among the Vanished, I can begin again.”
“You would rather be dead among them than alive with us?”
“Not everyone among the Kiriilti is as forgiving as you and Paono,” she said. I felt a faint flush of guilt about having needed to draw from Paono’s compassion to pretend to forgive her.
“So I’d live inside her body, and she’d join you?” I asked Peldin.
Mieshk stepped forward, intent on answering for him. “First, I’d have to relinquish my body. There are incantations known to the Vanished that will allow it.”
I nodded. “And then?”
“The others would help you leave the aether and enter me. Paono would perform another dawnweaving. He would mold my form to match your old body. You wouldn’t have to look like—” A pained expression crossed her face. “—You wouldn’t have to look like me.”
“It’s not that. Your appearance doesn’t—“
She rolled her eyes, cutting off my words. A wry smile twisted her mouth. “Please stop whatever inane comment you were going to make about my appearance being perfectly attractive. I’m quite fine with it. I was just momentarily unsettled by the thought of my body being changed to look like you. But I realized it won’t matter. It won’t be my body anymore.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so just licked my lips, thinking. Even if Mieshk thought she wanted this, I still wasn’t sure I could take it from her.
“How long before I have to decide?” I asked.
Paono’s eyes grew distant as if he were speaking into the aether. “I’d say less than five minutes,” Peldin said in a matter fact voice.
I screwed my eyes shut then blinked. How did they expect me to make this decision so quickly?
“Why so soon?”
Paono’s body sighed as Peldin put on his best look of impatience. “I already told you. It’s taboo. And through your friend’s life-channeling ability, I can tell that the others are nearly here. They can’t know. Therefore you must choose.”
I looked from Peldin to Mieshk and back. How could I possibly agree with so little time? Yet how could I possibly refuse?
“You haven’t asked about conditions,” Peldin said. “Never were much for thinking about consequences, were you? But I’ll tell you anyway. First, you can never, ever tell anyone. We would be breaking the most fundamental rule of soul magic to do this, and it’s only because you saved our world from complete annihilation. But aside from the people here, no one can know that it’s possible. Your civilization is young and has shown a remarkable lack of self-restraint.”
“A dozen people saw me jump into the lava,” I said. “They know I died.”
“Those people also saw—and felt—Paono pull energy from their spirits and weave it into a magic spell. You only need to declare that his magic insulated you from the fire.”
“But what about Raav? I promised him I’d always tell the truth.”
Paono’s body shrugged. “Are you asking me for relationship advice?”
I pressed my lips together. I was a good liar. I could make the story stick. But it wasn’t who I wanted to be anymore. Then again, I didn’t want to be dead, either. And in this case, I’d be hiding the truth for the right reasons. What they were talking about doing would always be wrong. I glanced at Mieshk. Okay, maybe it would almost always be wrong. Mieshk wanted this. I didn’t want to be dead. Maybe, in this case, there was nothing immoral about the exchange.
“That’s it? I keep the secret?”
Peldin shook Paono’s head. “There’s more. I already mentioned that magic can only enter the world when a new person is born. Mieshk’s talent for compulsion was burned out of her. Even if it’s your spirit guiding her body, you’ll never work magic again—your magic belongs to the aether now. But if you remain in the aether, you’ll likely keep your talent for quite a while. There are many souls, even among the Vanished, who have yet to lose theirs.”
No magic. Another lie. But I’d have a chance with Raav. I wouldn’t have left him without a proper goodbye. My vision of him walking with another woman through Istanik wouldn’t have to come true.
And I could continue what I’d started. The Kiriilt Islands needed guidance. Otherwise, the Trader Council would likely just regain control. Plus, I’d promised Istanik’s gutterborn a place in Ashkalan. And after the battle for Istanik, I’d made a mental vow to build a home for the children orphaned by Waikert attacks.
There was so much to be done. And I didn’t need magic to accomplish it.
I turned my gaze to Mieshk. “You’re sure?”
She nodded. “I never thought I’d say this to a gutterborn, but I’d be honored.”
According to Paono’s spark sense, the boat carrying my friends was closing rapidly on the harbor channel. With a tendril of perception, I watched Ashkalan’s docks through Paono’s eyes. I’d released the duskweaving, and had immediately been sucked back into the aether. The Vanished surrounded me. Heiklet stood nearby, smiling and wearing an ornate uniform I didn’t recognize. Piping on the sleeves was sewn in intricate patterns. It must have been a costume from her home island of Orteshk. It made sense that her self-image would reflect her origins.
Just behind her, I spotted Zyri. The moment I entered Mieshk’s body, I’d lose the ability to speak to anyone here. Until I died again, at least. I felt I should say something, but my emotions were storming through my head, stealing my words. Peldin stepped forward and nodded at me.
“We are almost ready,” he said. “But before we begin, there’s someone who bargained hard for a chance to speak with you before you go.”
From deep in the crowd, a tall figure stepped forward. I recognized him instantly. As Tyrak draped an arm over Zyri’s shoulder, my heart jammed its way into my throat.
“Tyrak,” I said, a tear running down my cheek. “How?”
The crowd parted as I sprinted toward him, sent him staggering with the force of my hug. He laughed and wrapped his arms around me.
“Your trueweaving was rather more powerful than you seem to realize,” Peldin explained. “When Purviiv and I sealed the last rift, we managed it by using our weaving to convince a few of the souls powering the gate to choose dissolution into the aurora. It wasn’t runes in our time, by the way. That came from the Ulstat scholars. There are many, many ways to open the rift. Mavek’s rogue coven built small shrines and etched incantations on the inner walls before forcing spirits into each of the buildings. We were able to destroy three of the shrines, enough to close the rift, but some of the effects still lingered.”
I stepped away from Tyrak’s hug and grabbed Zyri’s hand. I was so happy for them. “Like the storm season?”
Peldin nodded. “And so forth. In all our history, we’ve never been able to undo the binding between a soul and an object. Nightforging, as you call it. But between your Need and Paono’s Want, the spirits that Mieshk bound were freed. None had to choose dissol
ution in order to escape.”
“I’m still not sure I understand. Tyrak wasn’t in a rune. Did we free all the nightforged souls on the island?”
“We don’t actually know how widespread the effects were,” Peldin said, inclining his head. “The shrines have been destroyed. Your friend Tyrak is free. As you know, distance is somewhat irrelevant in the aether, at least as far as magic is concerned. It’s quite possible you two managed to free every nightforged soul. Everywhere.”
I stood stunned. I could never have imagined undoing centuries of nightforging. All those Nocturnais unknowingly forcing spirits into inescapable prisons... undone. Intense pride filled my chest, no matter how hard I struggled to remain humble.
Turning back to Tyrak, I swallowed. “So I guess this is goodbye. I’ll miss you. I won’t lie.”
I hoped my words didn’t upset Zyri; I didn’t think they would. Surely, she’d understand the bond I shared with him, especially because it was rooted in our shared experience with her. A glance at her told me I’d judged right. A broad smile lit her face.
“You say that, but it wasn’t that long ago you threw me into the jumbled scree at the top of the volcano. I suppose someone might have found me eventually. In another thousand years or so.” Tyrak smiled as he teased me.
I punched him in the shoulder. “If you’re ever trapped in another dagger, I’ll make sure to keep hold of you when I jump into the lava.”
His face grew serious. “I’ll miss you too, Lilik. I won’t look forward to your death, but I will look forward to the day we can speak again.”
Lilik, we have to hurry, Paono’s voice echoed across the space. I’d never heard a channeler speak into the aether, and the sudden sound made me jump.
Peldin sighed. “I’ve been meaning to talk to him about volume. You were always much better at controlling your voice. Or better, confining your thoughts to the single person you were addressing.”
“Well, I guess we better get on with this before he bursts our eardrums. What do I need to do?”
Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set Page 92