by Jake Halpern
“You found me,” rasped Sebastian hoarsely.
“Told you I would,” said Flower. She grinned broadly, so that her cheeks swelled, which made her face look almost pudgy with baby fat.
“How long?” asked Sebastian.
“Hard to say,” said Flower. “Four hundred years—give or take a few. Shade and Ember didn’t want anyone to find you. They moved you from coffin to coffin and had graylings guard the areas. Then we had to find breathers who’d stay alive long enough to revive you. Everything had to line up.”
Flower sat down next to Sebastian. Alec and Wren joined her.
“Four hundred years,” said Sebastian. He shook his head slowly and then looked at Alec and Wren. “And these are the breathers?”
“Alec and Wren,” said Flower. “They’ll be leaving shortly.”
Sebastian bowed his head. “May your escape be swift.” He tilted his head—first to the left, and then to the right—draining water from his ears.
Alec inched forward. “Before we go, I have a question for Sebastian.”
Sebastian sat up so he was resting on his elbows, and nodded for Alec to continue.
“Flower told us that you found some kind of door—and that’s why you were vanished,” said Alec. “So what happened?”
Sebastian grabbed a handful of his thick white hair and squeezed some of the water out. He squinted at Flower, as if trying to see her better. “There was no time to tell you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
He rose to his feet slowly. “We found the door by chance,” said Sebastian. “One of Ember’s graylings—a girl named Nora—discovered a keyhole for the serpent key. She’d been playing around near the fountain in the Meadow.”
“You’re kidding!” said Flower, neck craned forward. “The keyhole was right by the fountain?”
Sebastian nodded. “It was in the fountain itself,” he said. “Hidden in the lower basin.”
Sebastian squatted down, picked up a small rock, and sketched a crude picture in the dry sand on the floor of the cave. He drew two circles, one within the other. The bigger circle, he explained, represented the lower basin. He then pointed to a spot near the edge of the lower basin. “There’s a round button here,” he said. “It’s impossible to see—you have to search for it with your fingertips. Once you press it, a slot opens at the base of the fountain. It’s also hard to find because it’s right at ground level. Once you insert the key in the slot, the fountain slides, as if it’s on rollers. There’s a ramp underneath it. We’d been down here in purgatory for some time, and no one had figured it out. Nora did it on her own, and she’d just arrived.” He smiled. “Only a bored, curious child could have found it.”
Sebastian stood up and arched his back, making his vertebrae crack loudly.
“Nora came and got us—Ember, Shade, and me,” he continued. “We told her to stay put. Then the three of us headed down the ramp. It kept going and going, until, finally, we came upon a room filled with statues—just like the ones on the Meadow. There were drawings, too—what would you call them?—mosaics—on the ceiling. One showed the statues with breath coming out of their mouths. And a second mosaic showed the wall, cracking and falling apart.”
Alec glanced up at the cave’s ceiling and tried to imagine what the mosaics might look like. Then he focused again on Sebastian. “So what’d you do?”
Sebastian raised a hand, gesturing for patience. “Well, we looked around a bit, and Ember leaned against one of the statues. Wouldn’t you know, it slides! As a matter of fact, all the statues slide and rattle around the room, like they’re on a carousel. After the statues slid, a foggy air started gushing out of their mouths, and then the walls began to crack.”
Sebastian looked off into the gloomy darkness of the cave, lost in the memory.
“So the walls started cracking?” said Alec finally. “Then what?”
“It didn’t seem like the room was going to cave in—at least, not yet—but we stopped pushing,” said Sebastian. “Mostly, we were curious about the air coming from the statues’ mouths—it was moist—like breath. And then we got this idea—to run a little test, I guess you could call it. We brought in an old lady from one of the bliss house basements on the Shadow side. Back then, we’d just started digging basements and subbasements.”
“They go down a lot deeper now,” Flower interjected. “Some go down for miles. And you have to stay in bliss. No one has a choice anymore. Anyone who objects gets vanished.”
“It’s worse than I feared,” said Sebastian. He glanced down at his forearms and noticed several rust stains from the sea coffin. He began to rub his arms, trying to erase the marks. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Shade and Ember were always terrified that the island would become too crowded.”
“What happened to the old lady?” asked Alec impatiently.
“Yes, yes, yes,” said Sebastian, rubbing his hands together. “Well, we pushed the statues again—made them rotate. More steam came from the statues’ mouths. And the old lady … woke up. Started screaming. The cracks on the walls expanded, like there’d been an earthquake. It was unnerving, but it seemed obvious that this was exactly what we were supposed to do. Why else would this incredible room be there?
“But, as you might guess, Shade and Ember were horrified. They thought this room was a poisoned gift—a temptation. They believed if we woke everyone up and tore down the wall, it would create a never-ending war—a battle among the dead where neither side could win because no one could be killed. The only answer, they said, was to keep everyone in bliss—keep them repeating the mantras—keep the faith that the gates to heaven would one day appear and open.”
“You didn’t buy it?” asked Flower.
“No,” said Sebastian. “Not one bit.”
He stood very still. His waterlogged robes hung heavily on his bony frame, like old clothing on a scarecrow.
“We argued, but I couldn’t change their minds,” continued Sebastian. “So they vanished me … and they vanished poor Nora, too. They vanished anyone who knew about the room beneath the fountain. But before they got me, I took the key—and I hid it.”
Sebastian went silent, and in the pause that followed, the only sound was waves crashing against the mouth of the sea cave. Sebastian hugged his arms to his chest for a moment, as if in the grips of a chill.
“What if Shade and Ember are right?” asked Alec finally. “I mean, if the wall came down, and everyone came out of the basements—like ants—it could be …”
“Very bad,” whispered Wren. She was thinking of the overturned urn when they first arrived on the island, and how quickly Suns and Shadows began to fight.
“No—that’s what they want you to think!” said Sebastian, leaning forward, eyes gleaming. “I created the Rule of Light. I thought separating Suns and Shadows was the only way to peace.” He sighed. “I was wrong. That mantra: Drown the Serpent of Fear. It’s not just a saying, something to repeat forever.” Sebastian shook his head feverishly. “No—the Serpent of Fear is the wall that divides the island. You see how it twists and turns? If we turn the statues and wake everyone, then we’ll tear down the wall and drown the Serpent of Fear. I tried to convince Ember and Shade of this.” He paused to catch his breath. “This has to be the way out of purgatory. Not saying mantras, not sitting in bliss—but coming together, Suns and Shadows, to drown the wall that divides us.”
Sebastian’s whole body seemed jittery, fueled by the depth of his conviction.
Flower stood up impatiently. “We don’t have a lot of time,” she said. “We were spotted by a grayling on our way to find you—and we woke up some others by accident. Ember and Shade may already know you’ve been freed. We need to move. So where’s the key?”
Sebastian smiled. “Of course. Do you still have my book?”
Flower reached for her bag and pulled out his old, leather-bound Common Book.
Sebastian took the book from Flower. He brought it to his face and kissed the cover. “When I died, a
thoughtful bone-house worker put this in a sealskin bag, lashed it to my body, and sent me down the Drain with it.”
Sebastian ran his fingers along the book’s spine, then pressed down on a small nick near the bottom. The spine gaped open, revealing a secret compartment. Using his pinkie, Sebastian probed the compartment, and fished out a golden, serpent-shaped key.
Wren couldn’t help herself. She reached out and touched the key with the tips of her fingers. The key was hefty and shaped like a cobra, with fangs and a hooded head.
“Sorry,” said Wren, pulling back her hand. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s all right,” said Sebastian, smiling. “I had the same reaction when I first saw it lying in the fountain. I suppose Nora did as well.” He gave it to Flower, then turned to Alec and Wren. “Can I help you with your canoe? I fear it isn’t wise for you to linger here any longer.”
Flower put the key back in the book and tucked it under her arm. “Yes, we should go now,” she said. “I promised to help them to the base of the falls.”
Alec helped Wren to her feet. “What do you want to do?” he asked. “You know, about your mother?”
She glared at him but then her face softened. “I want to find her,” she said. “But it … it seems crazy. We have the boat, the ropes, everything we need …” She paused. Part of her hoped that Flower or Alec would interrupt and say they’d help find her mother—that it was worth the risk. But neither one said anything. Wren looked at the ground. “Let’s go to the Drain.”
Together, they carried the canoe to the pebbly beach and slid it halfway into the water. Wren climbed into the front, and Alec sat in the middle. Flower walked around the canoe, inspecting it, checking that all the necessary provisions were inside.
“Thank you, and may fortune shine upon you,” said Sebastian.
“Will you and Flower go straight to the Meadow afterward?” Alec asked.
“Yes,” said Sebastian. “I’ve waited long enough.”
“I hope it works,” said Alec.
“I think it will,” said Sebastian gravely, holding Alec’s gaze. “And if it doesn’t, perhaps you will finish the job. Because no matter what—you’ll be back here one day.”
Alec nodded.
Flower hopped into the stern so she could steer. Sebastian grabbed the gunwales nearest Flower and pushed the canoe forward. It scraped across the pebbles and gravel until it began to float.
Together, they began to paddle, and the boat glided through the inlet and out to sea. They dug their paddles deep into the water and pulled hard to overcome the current. Soon, however, the current released its grip and the canoe was moving forward steadily.
“How long did it take you?” asked Alec. “When you climbed the falls with Pola?”
Flower thought about this as she took several strokes with her paddle. “Seven or eight hours, maybe more. You stay on one cliff face most of the way, and there are ledges to rest on. But right now, I’m more worried about graylings spotting us in the water before we even get there.”
Alec and Wren couldn’t see more than a few hundred yards into the distance. There was no rain, but a hazy fog hugged the water.
“Flower, thanks for coming with us,” said Wren.
“That was the deal,” said Flower, eyes dead ahead on the water. “It’s always something for something, right?”
Wren was about to respond, but then a flicker of movement in the fog ahead caught her attention. She saw several long, dark shapes emerge, then disappear.
“Wait,” whispered Wren.
They stopped paddling and peered into the fog.
Whorls of gray vapor drifted past.
Seconds later, they saw the unmistakable outline of three canoes coming their way, with three small grayling paddlers inside them. The clouds of mist drifted quickly, however, and the canoes soon vanished.
“Damn,” said Flower. “We need to turn around. Quickly now! Wren, give me five hard back strokes.”
Wren did as she was told. Flower, meanwhile, took several front strokes, and the canoe came about. “Good! Now, both of you—give me twenty good strokes—Wren on port and Alec on starboard,” said Flower. “Hurry, we need to get back.”
They paddled vigorously and, before long, saw tall cliffs looming above them on both sides. Alec glanced at Flower. She was cutting the water with her paddle, using it like a rudder. The paddle looked almost laughably large in her little arms.
“Do you think they saw us?” he asked.
“No,” said Flower stonily. Her face was all business. “But it was close. I’m surprised they had a patrol in this area. It’s far from the harbor and the wall. They might be looking for us. We ought to lie low in the sea cave for a bit.”
Wren saw the opening to their sea cave up ahead. They’d come full circle. She sighed. It felt like fate was pulling her back to the island. They drifted for a minute.
Wren turned to Flower. “I need to ask you something,” said Wren. “How long would it take to find my mother’s bliss house?”
Flower sat there with the paddle across her knobby knees, expressionless. “Do you know the month and year of her death?”
“She died in June,” said Wren. “Four years ago.”
“Welllll,” said Flower, drawing out the word, as if postponing where it might lead. “She wouldn’t be far. But it’s not about whether she’s close or not, it’s about whether you get caught, or what happens when you wake her up. Right?”
Wren shrugged. “I guess.” Then she pursed her lips and continued paddling. They moved steadily back toward the sea cave. The mist had grown so thick that it was difficult to see the walls of the inlet. Flower proved a steady hand, however, and guided them expertly through the waters.
“But if we went quickly—and didn’t linger—how long would it take?” asked Alec.
Wren was so surprised to hear him ask this question that she fumbled her grip on the paddle and nearly dropped it.
Flower shook her head. “You’ve been down here for how long now?”
Wren squinted her eyes closed and concentrated fiercely, trying to reconstruct their entire journey and estimate how long each leg had taken. “I’m guessing it’s been a bit more than two days,” she said finally. “But I can’t be sure.”
“Two days,” said Flower. She took another few strokes. “Well, two days—without food or water—and a lot of exertion … I’d say, maybe you have another twelve hours before you’re in real trouble. So, you might be able to pull it off. It’d be an hour round-trip to your mother’s bliss house.”
Alec shifted his weight in the canoe, as if absorbing the weight of this news, and the whole boat wobbled.
“If you were absolutely set on seeing your mom, we could do it quickly if we went by tunnel,” said Flower. She drummed her fingers against the boat’s hull. “It’s your call.”
“Alec,” said Wren. “We don’t have to do this. You don’t owe me. Sami Aron kicked me out because I stole, not because of you. He would have done it even if you hadn’t said anything.”
“I know,” said Alec. His voice was quiet. She turned her head, looking back at him. “But I’ve been thinking about it—about your mom. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve talked about her. When you were saddest, it was always because you missed her. If she’s close, and we get there quickly …” He stared at her, but her gaze was so intense that he looked back down at the bottom of the canoe. “If we don’t at least try, you and I will both regret it. That’s what I think.”
Moments later, the canoe arrived at the mouth of the sea cave. The hull ground against the pebbly shore. The three of them stepped out of the canoe and began pulling it forward. Summoned by the noise, Sebastian Half-Light emerged from the darkness of the cave.
“Why are you back?” asked Sebastian, as calm and unsurprised as if they’d returned a bit early from a leisurely paddle.
“The graylings were out in their canoes,” replied Flower. “And Wren
decided she wants to wake up her mother.”
Sebastian stood there and crossed his arms. “I thought that might happen,” he said softly to himself. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if meditating. “Well,” he said finally. “We better get going—we should do this quickly.”
Flower turned and stalked off into the darkness.
Sebastian watched her go. “She’ll be all right,” he said, following her with his eyes. “She’s like that when things don’t go according to plan.”
“I planned for this!” called Flower from the back of the cave. “I planned for everything. Now come over here.”
They followed Flower’s voice, which led them to the spot by the old, rusty lantern, where the boat had once been. Flower stood beside a long wooden box. Inside was a shovel, a digger’s robe, and a torch. There were also fire-starting tools: a slab of flint and steel.
“Put this on,” she said to Sebastian, handing him the robe and the shovel. He put on the robe, grabbed the shovel, and tucked his book under his arm. “And did you take a few of the drops from the barrel? You won’t stay awake without them, you know?”
“Already did it,” said Sebastian.
“Good,” said Flower. “Well, if we’re gonna do this, let’s go.” She lit the torch and led them to the back of the sea cave—to the mouth of a narrow tunnel, whose walls were nicked and scraped with the marks of pickaxes. The tunnel led upward, gradually, at a slight angle.
“You made this tunnel?” Wren asked. She was right behind Flower.
“It didn’t take long,” Flower said. “Must’ve been a century ago.”
Wren glanced at Flower’s hands and noticed, for the first time, just how deeply calloused they were.
“Well,” said Wren, “I guess when you’re five hundred years old, it all kind of blends together.”
“Now you’re starting to talk like a dead girl,” said Flower. As they made their way down the tunnel, Flower’s torch began to flicker, and then a gust of wind extinguished it, plunging the tunnel into darkness.