“I must confess I have never been any good at saying goodbye.”
“Then don’t,” said Rook. “We’ll meet again soon, Ki-ka.”
Janus dipped his head, a faint smile on his lips.
Samker was still pouting but he waved her off with a heartfelt farewell and she felt warmth bloom at the sight. Sometimes family wasn’t blood. Sometimes it became a jumble of misfits who didn’t fit anywhere else, brought together by fate’s hand. They had opened up the world to her in ways she could never have dreamed of knowing, and while it hadn’t all been good, she wouldn’t take it back for all she had grown. With a tentative flickering of hope she waved them off, taking the gangplank up to the same ship they had taken to Tsellyr in the beginning. It felt fitting, to leave the same way she had come, like her journey had come full circle.
Kilai took her first step onto a new adventure, the open horizon as hazy as her vision of the future. But she was ready to face it. She was ready to find herself.
Epilogue
They did not notice when he slipped from the mayor’s office. Seeker wasn’t surprised; they were concerned with their own battles, too consumed by grander things like war and politics to bother with one dying soldier. Making it out of the building was surprisingly easy. He had expected security to be tighter for an important political figure. Such laxness would have long been stamped out if this had been the Sonlin and he could only be glad that it hadn’t been them that had found him. Seeker would never go back. Not that he had anything to go back to when he had deserted them and bonded with a riftspawn.
A shuddering cough rattled through his chest and he pulled his hand from his mouth to spots of crimson blood against his palm. The Reaper was hanging over his shoulder, waiting with eager hands to take him to the Netherworld. Seeker thought he could feel his breath on his neck as he marched over the bridge crossing the canal but it was probably just a breeze playing tricks with a fragile mind. Without Niks the gaps in his memory leaked, making it difficult to remember where he was going or what he was doing. His whole body shook. There was a good chance he wouldn’t make it, if his madcap plan was to work at all, but he had to grasp onto was whatever slim hope there remained.
Niks would have urged him to fight. She would have mocked him for his weakness if he didn’t and even without her there he could still hear her whispers inside his head. She was still out there, somewhere. Unlike him she did not die. Death wasn’t really a concept riftspawn understood, the way flesh decayed and rotted, or the steady decline of wits and strength that came with the ticking of the clock. In so many ways time was naught but a human construct, one he wished he could untether himself from.
Seeker longed to be free.
It took him longer than it should have to puff and wheeze up the hill to the building with the symbol for the Order of the Riftkeepers. By the time he reached the charcoal grey terrace, the sign as worn and faded as he himself, he had to pause to catch his breath. His thighs shook beneath his grip and his chest heaved with the effort of trying to gulp in enough air. Despite the balmy evening it was developing into, he felt so cold. His fingers had turned to ice.
Scraping enough of himself together to push open the door, he breathed a gasp of relief when it gave beneath his hand. Normally there would have been soldiers crawling all over the place but now that the rift had ruptured it was no longer safe. He glanced at a smattering of riftspawn as they danced on the breeze, hues a mixture of pink and purple like the jewel-hewed fish on the reefs. Instinctively he reached out to feel their signatures but he stopped short, brain skipping momentarily until he remembered he could not feel them anymore. He felt empty, drained of all essence. As if his senses had been sanded down and worn away until he was seeing the world through a pinhole.
Inside the building was eerily quiet, door creaking behind him before he closed it. With the curtains drawn over the windows in the hall he could barely see. His human eyesight had faded severely since his first outburst at the rift on the island off of Sathkuro but it had never bothered him until he had lost Niks and the abilities that came with their bond. Now he took each step carefully, conscious of where he placed his feet. Conscious it could be his last.
Floorboards groaned beneath his weight as he moved further down the corridor, unsure where he was going. Not being able to feel the rift when it was this close made him feel blind, stumbling around without any sight at all. The thought triggered the memory of his first encounter with Niks, back when he hadn’t understood. When he hadn’t been able to see.
Open your eyes.
If only he could.
Opening another door startled a riftspawn into flight, a huge silvery-gold creature with flapping ray-like wings. Reeling back, Seeker watched its path along the ceiling, winding away from him. They all seemed to scatter from his direction, as if afraid of him. Just what was it they sensed on him? He felt like there was a huge black spot on his soul, marking him as one of the damned. But he wasn’t about to lie down and wait for the Reaper’s gentle touch.
Struggling along, Seeker came to a staircase. It was so dark he couldn’t see more than the first few steps and he slapped a hand out to the wall as he attempted the first, foot so heavy he could barely lift it. His whole body was shutting down with the exertion of simply getting there but he couldn’t give up now. He took another step, then another, his breathing harsh in such stark silence. Then as he descended fully into the darkness he missed a step, overbalancing, and with a blur and a bang he found himself lying in a heap of limbs on the cold ground. The pain took a while to catch up to him, coming in and out in waves, and a ringing echoed in his ear.
Rolling over with a groan, Seeker heard his bones creak and crack. He tried to push himself onto his knees but the pain was too severe, shooting down his spine so sharply he could feel it in his teeth. Tears were squeezed from his eyes, breath fluttering in tiny gasps. His vision was spotty. With the desperation of a starving man he used his elbows to propel himself along the floor, the buttons left on his coat digging into the flesh of his belly. Pain was nothing but a reminder that he was nearly there.
Wriggling along like a worm, Seeker’s conviction only grew stronger and stronger the more pathetic he became. There was little left of him but his will. If only his father could see him now. He’d spit in his face for becoming so pitiful but Seeker would have the last laugh. Because he wanted it. He wanted life. He wanted to choose something for himself. He wanted to become himself.
The shimmering lights of the rift were the most beautiful thing Seeker had ever seen, even as little more than a smear in his faded vision. The riftspawn pouring from the door all swerved around him as he wriggled towards it, pleading with his limbs to keep him going the last few feet he needed. All he could feel was the throbbing ache in every part of his body, growing more potent with every movement he made. He had no idea if what he was attempting was possible, or if he could hope to survive it. But he had nothing left to lose.
His fingers reached out, just shy of the shining tear between realms. The air whispered as his hand fell and to his delirious mind it sounded like Niks calling him from beyond. I am coming, he thought. I am coming to you and we will reunite. With one last push, Seeker cried out with the pain, and touched the rift. It felt like nothing, a complete absence of feeling, vibrating down from his fingers and spreading all through his body. Blissful clarity found him just enough to pick himself up onto his knees. Inches away, Seeker gazed into the iridescence and saw nothing beyond. But it did not frighten him. He welcomed the abyss with open arms.
Stealing one last breath of air, Seeker launched himself from his haunches and plunged head first into the rift.
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The Reaping Season Page 42