“It’s time to help the others with the funeral preparations,” he said finally, his hand reaching for Fia’s waist.
“Did you know when you sent me into the valley? Did I serve my purpose, fulfil your prophecy?” Fia asked Kharsee before they turned to leave. Her jaw tightened and she chewed at her lip.
The old witch rested a hand on Fia’s. “Prophecies are not set in stone, Fia. Often, they are a seed, a catalyst in a chain of events. We need Arion for what lies ahead. He is connected to all the creatures in Ohinyan, he is the key to uniting them all. Only a loquere could have reached out to him.”
“You needed someone who could bring him to you,” Alexander said. These witches and their secrets. Working with them was going to require patience.
Kharsee held Fia’s hands in hers for a moment before leaving them in silence.
Fia looked up at Alexander, and he drew her into an embrace, breathing her in. Runa had lent her some jasmine soap, and the scent mixed with the smoke from the Makya’s fires.
In that moment, he knew he would always be distracted if she stayed. He would always be looking for her, checking she was safe. He would always put her first. She’d said it herself at the party in Mizune—she wouldn’t let herself be priority over an entire world full of people and creatures. Over his world. He fought away the sting of tears, as he brushed one of her own away from her cheek.
She’ll go home. You’ll say goodbye. And when this is all over, you can go back to her. But she must go home.
Chapter Thirty–Two
Fia
Building the funeral pyres calmed Fia’s mind. It was easier to pass the time with her hands rather than with her thoughts.
“I wanted to thank you,” said the Lady Noor, passing a handful of branches to Fia.
“Shouldn’t I be thanking you? You saved my life. What happened to you up there?”
Noor smiled. “Let’s say we’re even.” She laid down a branch, interlocking it with others around it. “Up there?” Noor looked up, sapphire blue eyes searching the skies. She sighed. “A lot happened. It felt like a lot longer than it was. But from what I understand, a lot happened down here, too.” She glanced over at Alexander, stacking wood on a nearby pyre.
Fia gave a weak smile. “Yeah, a lot. But I’ll be back on Earth soon, and it’ll be like none of this ever happened.”
A few snowflakes fell, and Noor held out a hand to catch them. They transformed into dandelion seed heads, white and feathery in her palm. “We are, all of us, like these little seeds, Fia. Once we collide, we either lose a little bit of ourselves, or take a little of another with us. But we are never the same again.” She blew gently at her palm, two seeds stuck together as they drifted towards the snow. “I think you have given part of yourself to Ohinyan, and in return it has given part of itself to you. That cannot be erased. I, for one, am very grateful our paths collided, and I shall not forget you.”
Fia’s lip trembled, and she bit down on it hard. This was the first of many goodbyes she wasn’t ready for. “I’m coming back when this is all over,” she began, removing the little pouch from around her neck and with it the little black stone she’d been carrying. “This is yours,” she said, holding out the little black dahlia.
“Keep it.” Noor smiled. “For when you come back. These stones are very special amongst my people. It will always identify you as an ally of mine, and you never know when you might need a friend. Here.” Noor fastened a few strips of red leather to Fia’s wrist in elaborate loops and knots. “Witch knots are very powerful. Untie this in your greatest moment of need, and you will be able to bind winds and release them much like the giants did today,” Noor finished, with a smile that reached her deep blue eyes.
She left without saying another word, and Fia found herself alone again, imagining Enne and Sophie together somewhere—wherever it was people go when they die. She watched Maab speaking quietly with Altair, inspecting a little pebble. Maab held Altair’s arm gently before they parted ways. He looked up at Fia, waving her over.
“It is a gift,” he said, turning the pebble over and over in his hands. It was like the one Altair had shown Fia of his wife, only this one was double sided. On one side was Enne’s likeness as a man, and on the other, a delicately carved likeness of him as a snow leopard.
“It’s beautiful,” Fia replied.
Maab was silent, rubbing his thumb over every line of the carving, turning it through his fingers, as if he were committing every detail to memory.
“Maab, I…Enne and I…last night, up on the lookout…”
“Yes, the two of you spoke whilst I discussed strategy with Alexander,” Maab said, his eyes fixed on the likeness of Enne smiling back up at him.
“Yes, that’s right.” Fia forced a smile. “Enne said some really wonderful things.”
Maab nodded.
“He loved you,” she whispered. “So much. He told me love had freed him. That you were his home. You know that won’t ever change, right?” Her words came out in a rush. She tried to recall all the things people had said to her at Sophie’s funeral. There was nothing worth repeating.
“Thank you, Fia. Those are kind words,” Maab said, but his eyes did not meet hers. Low, heavy drums were beating slowly; it was time to light the pyres. Maab nodded, and together they made their way to Enne’s pyre.
Altair spoke to the people gathered around. “The memory of those we have lost can never be taken from us. They live in our minds and in our hearts, as long as we choose to keep them there. Their spirits join Ohinyan.” He knelt, scooping up a fistful of snow. “They are part of the water you wield, and they are the particles of dust floating in the sunlight as it shines through your window each morning. They are with us, always.”
He scattered the snow in the breeze, and as the drums sounded once more, the fires sparked into life. The crowd broke off into groups, each holding their own little service.
Fia wiped away her tears. She thought of Sophie’s funeral, how strange it had been watching the coffin lowered into the ground.
Alexander took Fia’s bandaged hand as they stood beside Enne’s pyre. Maab clasped his hands in front of him and cleared his throat. “We Nords have a saying: no tree grows to the sky. Or as you would say, nothing lasts forever. I told Enne this once, and he told me, ‘ah but this is the beauty of Ohinyan.’ He said that when it was his time to die, I would see him dancing in every gust of wind, swimming in every stretch of open water, and running in delight in every drift of snow. He believed, as I know many of you do, that his spirit would go on living in Ohinyan forever.”
Murmurs of agreement came from the Nords gathered around the pyre.
Maab was quiet for a moment as the pyre was lit. “You told a friend that love had freed you, but it was your love that freed me. You will forever have a place inside my heart. It will always be your home. We honour you now, Enne, forever dancing, swimming, and running in delight.” He fell silent, holding his head high as the flames engulfed Enne’s body.
Alexander wrapped an arm around Fia, and together they watched as Enne’s body became part of Ohinyan. Fia twirled the bird charm in her fingers as she let the tears flow freely down her face. She fought back the knot tugging at the bottom of her stomach and snagging the air from her lungs when she tried to breathe calmly. Enne was gone. She was leaving. This might be the last time she saw many of these faces again. She could lose all of them. She could lose Alexander for good.
It was time to go. Erebus had made her decision for her. If she stayed, Alexander and all their friends were at risk. She wouldn’t do that to them. Couldn’t. If Alexander truly knew of Erebus’ threat to her, she’d only be in the way. There was too much at stake in Ohinyan, and she couldn’t put her own feelings before an entire world.
She was quiet on the sled ride back to Mizune, listening to the dogs chatting in cheerful outbursts. They were enormous, happy things, undisturbed by the day’s events. Fia and the others hadn’t heard from Gymir since he and
the Jǫtnar had helped them during the attack, but every now and then, she thought she could hear the crystalline sound of his coughing and spluttering into the wind.
The huskies raced onwards, and at the edges of her vision, the snow hung from the trees in glistening shapes and the blue sky blanketed the horizon beside a bright, white expanse of snow. The smell of the ocean filled her nostrils as they arrived at the outskirts of Mizune. She was going to miss this place, despite the biting cold.
“Fia?” Altair’s great cloak swung from side to side as he approached. “Fia?”
She looked up as the huskies came to a stop and climbed wearily from the sled. “Altair.” She tried to smile but couldn’t.
“You have endured much since your arrival in Ohinyan, child,” he said, examining her arm in a sling and her bandaged hands.
Fia sighed. “All those people. Enne…It’s just the beginning, isn’t it? When the sun dies, everyone could—you could all be gone.”
Altair smiled gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Life and death are like breathing in and breathing out. As with so many things in Ohinyan, one cannot exist without the other, and they cannot be separated. Just as night and day cannot be separated. Day will find a way to return to Ohinyan eventually. This I know for certain.”
“But how can you know?”
“It is the way of Ohinyan. Like meeting and parting. At some point, we have to say goodbye. Some goodbyes are just more final than others.”
“Do you think this is final?” Fia watched the huskies bounding off through the snow before turning her attention back to Altair.
“Who can say,” Altair replied, rubbing his chin. “But the encounter was worthwhile, was it not?” A smile spread across his face from ear to ear, and for a moment, Fia forgot she was going back to London and leaving all of this behind.
More goodbyes followed. For most, it was short and sweet. Noor had hugged her—a wordless hug that almost took the wind right out of her. Maab clasped her good arm, shaking it firmly with his. “It has been an honour, Fia. Until we next meet,” he said in his thick accent.
Malachai said a few quiet words. Runa embraced her in a fierce hug, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She laughed as she wiped them away. “We’ll see you soon, okay?”
Fia nodded. All the air had escaped from her lungs, and she had to use the tiny bit she had left just to keep breathing. There wasn’t enough for speaking, too.
Arion knelt in the snow for Fia to climb up onto his back one last time, and she carefully dug her hands into his matted mane. The sun was setting, and the sky spirits were dancing and spiralling in ribbons of colour above them.
The snow had stopped falling, and a light breeze carried with it the scents of salt and seaweed. Oil lamps flickered in Mizune, casting long, black shadows. Fia breathed it all in deeply and closed her eyes. “Okay, let’s go.”
Alexander flew silently beside them as they made their way to the window. The journey would be faster if Arion carried her, he’d explained, but he stayed close, never leaving Arion’s side. The fireflies had come, perhaps to say their own goodbyes, but they were quiet as they danced around Fia and Arion, their shimmering glow finally disappearing before they reached the coast.
Fia studied as much of the changing landscape as her streaming eyes would let her, committing it to memory. She shielded her face against the wind. Below them was the deep, dark expanse of ocean, and to their left the sun dipped down into the horizon, melting into the water. She listened to the rhythmic beating of Arion’s wings, and felt the strength of his legs as they galloped through the air, closing her eyes when the wind became too much.
What had taken days of travel in the Navarii ships passed by them in a single night. They crossed over rocky terrains, forests of lush, tall trees, and cities with structures even stranger than in Ikothea, and all the while, Fia felt the darkness of the night sky close in around them as the light faded away. She couldn’t see the sky spirits this far north; she might never see them again.
She thought of Sophie, and whether she’d joined those spirits. Her chest ached at the thought of her sister, but it didn’t knock the air from her lungs as it had done in the days before. She’d thought her grief would grow smaller over time until there was nothing left, but instead she had grown around it.
Fia’s legs were numb by the time Arion slowed his pace, circling wide as he descended. He followed Alexander, who had dived low into the forest. He touched his heavy hooves to the ground gracefully and knelt once more as Fia awkwardly climbed down from his back, stiff and aching from the journey.
“Thank you, Arion. For everything,” Fia said, burying her head into his neck.
“I have enjoyed having a human to talk to. I’d forgotten what it was like. For that, I thank you, Fia.”
“Will you miss it?” Fia asked.
“I will. But the witches and I have much to learn from each other, and I wish to help with what lies ahead. Whilst I cannot talk with them as I can with you, they have a rather unusual way of communicating with me, which will have to suffice.” He laughed. He was quiet for a moment, dragging a hoof across the grass. “I turned away from the people of Ohinyan many years ago. Thank you for reminding me that they still have the capacity for good in them, just as the creatures do.”
With a slight nod in Alexander’s direction, Arion was airborne, beating his enormous wings and pounding the air with his muscular legs.
“Goodbye!” Fia tried to call out, but her voice cracked and came out small and quiet. She breathed in the smell of pine needles and jasmine one last time, trying to control the unravelling ball of anxiety in her chest. She counted her breaths.
“It’s time to go,” Alexander said. He pulled her close, his forehead resting against hers, and they stood for a moment, sharing a breath before he scooped her up into his arms. He carried her with care, flying slow above the canopy into the velvety blue of the night sky. “Are you ready?”
“Is this it?” Fia asked, looking up at the stars.
“Look ahead.”
It was hard to make out in the dark of night, and it had no discernible shape, no edges that Fia could clearly see. But straight ahead of her in the night sky, as if it were carved into the air, was the window. And through it, Highgate cemetery’s dark catacombs. She held her breath. Neither of them spoke as Alexander carried her through, and Fia couldn’t bring herself to look back. One moment they were under the starry sky of Ohinyan, and the next they were in the damp and musty catacombs of Highgate cemetery.
Silently, he carried her above the shadowy streets of London. It was late; the roads were quiet, and all the lights in the homes were off. The lights of the city sparkled in the distance, and somewhere a car alarm was going off. Everything seemed so out of place to Fia.
The parked cars looked peculiar, and the perfect rows of houses so awkward. That sinking, gnawing in her stomach pulled itself further and further down, and tears threatened to spill over her cheeks.
They arrived at her flat, and Alexander dropped in gently through the top window. In the moonlight, her bedroom was cold and empty, and the alarm clock by the bed cast a red glow across the floor. Fia dropped her backpack and her bow and let her feet carry her to bed. The numbness was creeping in, and the waves were crashing over her once more. Alexander sat down beside her and took her hand in his. She bit her lip. This couldn’t be it. But it was the only way to protect him. To protect all of them.
“My father gave this to my mother. I want you to have it, so that you know I’ll come back for you, once this is all over—so that you know I mean it when I tell you I want us to be together.” His words were rushed, and he held out a golden cuff like the ones Fia had seen Malachai and Runa wearing. It was beautifully carved, with fine, delicate lines that flicked and flourished in intricate patterns.
“What if something happens to you?” she asked, her glistening eyes searching his.
“It won’t, I promise. I’m coming back for you as soon
as it’s safe.”
Fia took the cuff and placed it on her wrist. It fit snugly and reflected the moonlight, as it shone through the window. She kissed him, her hands tugging through his hair and her tears mingling with their kiss.
She fought back a sob, and traced a hand along the stubble of his jaw and placed another at his chest, breathing him in deeply. “Stay with me a while?” She felt as if the room was crumbling around them, as if all the air had been sucked out of the world.
Alexander pulled her close one last time, stroking her hair until she fell asleep.
Her dreams came quickly. At first, she thought she would live forever. She was infinite. Eternal. She was flying, soaring, stretching her wings wide. Beside her flew Alexander, soaring and diving with her. His elation was contagious—she tried to laugh, but the wonder of it took her breath away.
She delighted in it, turning gracefully in the gentle wind. They flew together until day became night. Alexander was ahead of her all the while. She turned in the wind once more, but then he was gone. She searched for hours, flying through the night, until the first light of dawn began to creep across the sky. She searched amongst trees and caves, under waterfalls and across oceans, but he was nowhere to be found.
When Fia awoke, she was alone. The quiet morning sunlight filled her empty bedroom. Golden rays lit up the particles of dust floating in the air after weeks of being undisturbed. Alexander was gone, and on the empty pillow beside her was nothing but a long, white feather.
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The Third Sun (Daughter of the Phoenix Book One) Page 28