by Jake Halpern
“Steady now,” said Flower. Wren groped for Alec with one hand. Sebastian’s cold hand grasped her other.
A few minutes later, Flower managed to light her torch again. The passageway continued forward, but there was also a winding ramp—off to the right—that slanted up. Next to the ramp, a date was carved into the stone wall.
“We’re getting closer,” said Flower.
Soon, they came upon another ramp, also marked with a date. They exited the main tunnel, onto that ramp, and soon came upon a vaulted doorway.
“Careful,” whispered Flower. “There might be a glade Keeper in here.”
They entered a vast room filled with crisscrossing beams of light, which were reflected and multiplied by a network of mirrors. The walls were sculpted to resemble the tree trunks of a dense forest, and the ground underfoot had the texture of brittle grass. When Alec and Wren looked at it more closely, they saw that it was actually a carpet woven from seaweed and what looked like human hair.
The most striking aspect of the space, however, were the networks of ropes that hung from the ceiling, forming a vast web that hundreds of bodies dangled from. Some were situated comfortably, as if reclining in a hammock or sitting on a rope swing, while others were hanging upside down or sagging like damp towels on a clothesline.
“Is this supposed to be the Sunlit Glade?” Alec asked.
“That’s right,” whispered Flower.
Even after seeing the reality of the Shadows’ bliss houses, Alec was still dumbfounded by what was in front of him. He’d often told clients about what their dead relatives could expect in the afterlife. And this … it was unthinkable.
Alec shivered.
Just then, a barrel-chested man—who’d been sitting perfectly still on a looping, low-hanging vine—stood up so abruptly that they all jumped.
“Building something?” asked the man, eying Sebastian’s burlap robe and shovel. The man’s voice sounded creaky and weak, but his arms bulged with muscles.
“Yes,” said Sebastian.
“Rather old to be a digger,” croaked the man. Apparently, he was the glade Keeper.
“I’m good with a hammer,” said Sebastian. “Maybe you want to come down to the depths and see?”
“Perhaps, but tell me something first,” said the man. He pointed a finger at Alec. “Why was the boy shivering?”
“What does it matter to you?” asked Flower.
“It looked like a shiver,” said the man.
“The dead don’t shiver,” said Flower.
“I know,” said the man. “That’s why I asked. The boy—does he speak?”
“I speak,” said Alec. He tried to keep the tremor out of his voice. He paused. “We’ve come from the Meadow. The drops make me itch.”
The man took a step closer to Alec.
“Give me your hand,” said the man.
“Why?” asked Alec.
“I want to feel your pulse,” said the man.
“He has no pulse,” Flower scoffed. “He’s dead.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” said the man, still staring at Alec. “I just heard there are breathers on this island. Now give me your wrist, boy.”
The man lurched forward, reaching for Alec, but Flower stepped between them. The man batted her away easily, then seized Alec by the wrists. Alec wriggled desperately, trying to free himself, until the man finally punched him in the stomach. Alec crumpled to the ground and let out a deep, guttural gasp.
“Breather!” hissed the man. He leapt onto Alec, pinning his chest to the ground with a knee.
“I won’t let you taint this glade!” he cried, wrapping his hands around Alec’s throat and squeezing.
There was a blur of motion, and suddenly, the glade Keeper lay sprawled on the ground. Sebastian had hit him with the shovel, the edge of which he was now pressing to the man’s throat.
Wren knelt next to Alec, who was now coughing loudly.
“Quickly, Flower,” said Sebastian. “Get some vines to tie him with.”
“Got it,” said Flower. In no time, she had found several lengths of spare vines, which she used to bind the man’s hands and feet. Sebastian tore a piece of cloth from his robe and stuffed it in the man’s mouth.
“Lie still,” Sebastian told the man. “We’ll be back soon, and we’ll find you a nice sea coffin if you cause any trouble. It’ll be a small one, so there won’t be room to squirm.”
The man went still.
“Come on,” said Flower. She led them out of the room in a hurry. They entered another glade, brighter because of several more torches hanging from the wall. Here the bodies of dead children were draped across a web of tangled ropes that hung from the ceiling. Their small faces gleamed in the torchlight.
“Who are they?” whispered Wren.
“Orphans,” whispered Flower. “They were on a boat to Edgeland, but there was a fire. I remember seeing them pass through the harbor. Ember said they were too little to be graylings, so she sent them here.”
Flower continued across the room, until they came upon a stairwell. The wall here was emblazoned with a lone word: MARCH. “If your mother died in June, she’ll be three levels up.” They took the stairs, passing sturdy wooden doors at each landing. The first one was engraved with APRIL. The next was MAY. Then they came to JUNE. Flower leaned against it, and the big slab swung open. She looked at Wren. All was quiet.
“This is it,” said Flower. “Are you ready to see your mother?”
Wren felt shaky. She pictured her mother’s face and imagined introducing herself, explaining what she had become: a runaway, a thief, and a suspected murderer. Done well for myself, haven’t I? And what, exactly, was she expecting her mother to say? For a moment, she considered calling the whole thing off.
“Be careful,” said Flower. “And be quick.”
“Flower and I will stay here and keep watch,” said Sebastian. “If anything’s amiss, we’ll call out. And if we tell you we have to leave …”
“Yeah, I know,” said Wren.
“Are you ready?” asked Alec. He seemed to sense her hesitation.
Wren nodded.
They walked into the glade and took in the scope of the room. There were at least a thousand people in the nets, all of them silently mouthing the mantra.
Wren took a step back. “This is too many people,” she said. “We’ll never find her.”
“Let’s start at the back and move forward,” said Alec. “The light is pretty good. We should be able to see the people near the ceiling without having to climb.” They walked to the back of the room and began in the left corner.
For several minutes, Wren moved from one vine to the next. She wanted to hurry forward and cover the entire room quickly, but forced herself to be methodical.
At the end of one row, Wren stopped abruptly, as if suddenly aware she was being watched. There, perched on the vines, was her mother.
“I found her,” Wren whispered.
She pointed to a brunette woman hanging from a vine, about seven feet off the ground.
Immediately, Alec was at her side.
Wren spent a long moment just looking at her mother’s lean, angular face. She had high cheekbones and a pointy chin. Her skin was brown, like Wren’s, and her full lips were almost purplish in color. She was mouthing the words of the mantra, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. She looked surprisingly well, as if she were resting comfortably on a Sunday morning. Seeing her like this brought back a trove of memories. Images flickered in Wren’s mind: picking wildflowers with her mother in the tall grass and foraging for mushrooms in the woods after a hard rain.
Wren felt a surge of pressure in her chest.
She began to climb.
She was aware of Alec climbing next to her, but somehow none of it seemed real. When they reached her mother’s body, they untangled her carefully and lowered her to the floor. Her hair had been gathered in a bun, but wisps had come loose, and dangled around her face like the threads of a s
piderweb.
Wren sat next to her mother, leaned forward, and breathed across her face. Please recognize me.
It didn’t take long for her to revive.
Her mother’s fingers began to tremble, then her eyelids fluttered and opened. At first only the whites of her eyes appeared, but then her pupils emerged and fixed on Wren.
“Mother—it’s me,” Wren whispered. “Wren. Your daughter.”
Her mother’s lips pursed into a tight seam, then her mouth opened. An arm rose, tentatively, as if searching for air. It settled on Wren’s arm and grabbed it. A cry started in the bottom of her throat, then grew louder until it echoed off the walls. Wren expected this, but it was still horrible to hear. Soon, though, her screams died away and she struggled to a sitting position.
She turned to Wren, who offered a small, guarded smile.
“It’s me,” she said. “Wren.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’m older now.”
“Can it be you, Wrennie?” rasped her mother. “Can it really be?”
Wren nodded. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Her mother gripped her arm tighter. “You have grown,” she rasped. “How many years has it been since I died?”
“Four,” said Wren.
“Four years,” said her mother. She looked around, taking in the strange images of the glade. “My sweet Wrennie.” Her chin trembled and she reached out to touch Wren’s arm. “You’re so warm …” A curious look came across her mother’s face. “Oh my goodness … Why, you’re breathing.”
“I’m a breather,” said Wren. “That’s why I was able to wake you from … bliss.”
Her mother looked around and saw Alec for the first time.
“That’s Alec,” explained Wren. “He came here with me. He’s alive, too.”
Wren’s mother nodded vaguely at Alec. “I’m Alinka.”
“Hello,” said Alec.
“What are you doing here?” asked Alinka. She rubbed her eyes vigorously, as if making sure they still worked. “How can you be here … if you’re alive?”
In a rush, Wren explained how they had fallen down the Drain, met Flower, and ended up here. “And there’s something else I have to tell you,” said Wren. Her heart was racing and her mouth was sputtering out words like a broken faucet.
“Father’s alive,” said Wren. “Or at least, I think he is. His whaling ship didn’t sink or vanish or whatever. He came looking for me, in Edgeland, but we missed each other. I’m nearly certain it was him. They said the man had a large birthmark on his right cheek.”
Alinka appeared shaken. Her hands were clenched into fists, and her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palms. “My goodness,” she said. “I think I’d have a heart attack, if I weren’t already dead.”
Just then, Sebastian’s voice rang out from across the room, calling their names.
Wren turned to Alec. “Go see what he wants,” she said. “Tell him I need another minute.”
Alec nodded and dashed off.
Wren took a deep breath. Another minute? How about another day or another month? She turned back to her mother. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know how much longer we have. Alec and I are gonna try and make it back up the Drain. Tell me about our family. Is there anybody else? I want to find Dad. Would he be in Ankora? I mean, it’s such a big city. Where would I even look?”
“Ankora,” her mother said, nodding slowly. “Yes. We were both born there. My parents were spice traders. Your father worked for us—tending the gardens. The problem was …” She looked off into the dim expanse of the glade. “Your father was a Shadow, and I was a Sun—so we had to leave. The two families wouldn’t accept it.”
Wren sat back on her heels, struggling to process all of this.
“I wanted to tell you all this at the perfect moment,” she said with a shake of her head. “You see, we ran away together and moved to Vilna, which is where you were born. We told the people there that we were married and never spoke of our families. Your father pretended to be a Sun. We farmed and fished. We were poor. I didn’t care, but your father felt guilty. That’s why he took a spot … on the whaling ship.”
Wren leaned forward, taking in every word, all too aware that any moment might be the last she’d have with her mother.
“Listen to me,” said Alinka. She grabbed Wren’s robe, pulling her closer. “Your father had six brothers. They lived on the edge of the Songbird District—in Ankora. That’s where you want to go. If anyone can help you find him, they can.”
Wren glanced about, looking for Alec, but he was nowhere to be seen. She turned back to her mother. Alinka was staring at Wren’s arms. At her scars.
“You’ve had a hard life,” said Alinka very quietly.
Wren nodded.
“I remember when my ferry capsized,” said Alinka. “At first, I thought I might be able to swim to shore, but the current … It was too strong. I remember thinking: What’ll happen to Wrennie? Who will take care of her? They say you’ll find peace when you die, but it wasn’t true. I ended up here”—she gestured around the glade—“and went into bliss. But even then, I dreamed about you. Even then …”
Tears rolled down Alinka’s cheeks.
Wren pulled her close and hugged her. Alinka’s body felt thin, frail, and cold. And then Alec’s worried voice rang out. Wren could hear him running toward them.
“WREN! I can’t find Sebastian and Flower. Wren. Something is wrong. They’re gone.”
“Gone!” said Wren. “What do you mean, gone?”
“I ran up and down the stairs and there’s no trace of them,” said Alec, still panting to catch his breath. He glanced backward quickly, one last time, as if hoping to prove himself wrong. “I’m telling you, they’re gone.”
He stepped closer to Wren and her mother and held up Sebastian’s book. “I found this near the doorway.”
“Is the key inside?” asked Wren.
Alec opened the book and poked at its spine. “Yes,” he said, holding up the serpent key.
“And did you close the door to the glade?” asked Wren.
“Yes,” said Alec. “I couldn’t lock it, but the hinges creak. We’ll hear if it opens.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment, reassuring themselves that the door was not currently creaking.
“Sebastian and Flower must’ve been caught,” said Wren finally. “It’s the only explanation. We were set up.”
“You’re saying it was a trap?” asked Alec.
“Yeah,” said Wren, grimacing. “It’s like Flower said, we gotta assume that Ember and Shade know our names. And they know when my mother died. I told that man at the harbor. They must’ve put the pieces together.”
“But if it’s a trap, where are the graylings?” asked Alec. “Why didn’t they come for us?”
Wren’s face was grim. “I don’t know,” she said.
Alec had a fierce desire to run back to the canoe. It was still there, waiting for them. It wouldn’t take long to retrace their steps and leave. And how hard could it be to find the Drain? He glanced down at his hands. He was holding the serpent key, which Sebastian had left for them.
“Who do we give this to?” he asked, holding up the key.
“What’s that?” asked Alinka.
In a few sentences, Wren quickly explained what Sebastian had intended to do with the key. When she was done talking, Alinka extended her hand. “Let me have it,” she said. “I can try to find the door on my own.”
“Do you even know where the Meadow is?” asked Alec.
Alinka shook her head.
“Then you’re bound to be caught,” said Alec. “You’ll just end up in a sea coffin. It’d be pointless.”
“He’s right,” said Wren, touching her mother’s shoulder. A plume of dust billowed from Alinka’s robe. Apparently, she’d been accumulating grime and lint for four years, like a forgotten piece of furniture.
“The way I see it, we have two options,” said Wren. “The first is that my mother goes back into
bliss. Flower says that’ll just happen unless she takes drops. Meanwhile, we run for the canoe, paddle back to the Drain, and try our best to climb. It would’ve been better with Flower to help, but we’ve still got a chance.”
“What’s the other option?” asked Alinka, eyes brimming with worry.
Wren looked at Alec and Alinka, holding their gaze for a moment before speaking.
“The other option is that we take the key, run to the Meadow, and do what Sebastian and Flower were going to do,” said Wren.
“No,” said Alinka. The muscles along her jawline quivered. “Go to the canoe.”
“And then what?” asked Wren hotly. “I’ll tell you: The key goes back to Shade and Ember, and then it’s more of the same. More bliss houses. More sea coffins. More mantras. Until one day, when we die, and we’re right back here—in purgatory—dealing with these same problems—only we won’t be able to fix things because we won’t have the key.”
Alec balled his hands into fists and rubbed his eyes roughly. “Wren,” he said slowly. “If we go back to the Meadow, we’ll probably die. You get that, right?”
“No,” she said. “Not if we bring support.”
“Support?” said Alec.
“Yeah,” said Wren. “Like other dead people—who we wake up. Remember, we’re the only two who can do it.” She turned to her mother. “Is there anybody in this room who might help us?”
“Maybe,” she said. Alinka looked around, surveying the glade. She then pointed to a nearby tangle of vines, occupied by a dozen or so brawny men in matching red tunics. “Those men are soldiers from the Desert Lands. If I remember correctly, they weren’t exactly happy about going into bliss.”
“They’ll do,” said Wren. “What do you say we wake them up?”
Alec eyed the soldiers warily. “Hmm,” he said. “Might make them angry.”
“I hope it does,” said Wren. “They’ve been left here to rot. Forever. They should be angry.”
Alec sighed heavily.
“She’s just like her father,” said Alinka, with the thinnest of smiles. “The man had the determination of an ox.”