Page 284 of Vasmora
Voices rose from behind me, and I turned to see more glowing, blue ribbons dancing above us, each villager weaving their own orb of light, until hundreds of ribbons drifted through the tunnel so brightly, they banished the darkness from every corner.
Just as the warriors and assassins had done for me, the villagers lowered to one knee, singing for the fallen boy.
I lowered to my knee alongside them, and after listening to a few rounds of the chorus, I joined their singing.
Until the song slipped into silence and the ribbons of light faded.
“Gods be kind,” Rykaia murmured.
A tingling at the back of my neck prompted me to turn back the other way.
There, the darkness of the opposite culvert gave way to a bright field of mist and white asphodels. Flowers swayed beneath sunlight, reaching out for the boy who ran through their stalks, a kite carried by the wind trailing after him. The echo of his laughter brought a smile to my face.
“Goodbye, Gavroche,” I whispered.
Zevander raised his hand, and what sounded like the deep groan of splitting stone cracked through the cavern. The black flames and lava parted, creating a steaming path to the other side of the trench, where the tunnel kept on toward Arcanaca Tower.
Kazhimyr stepped forward and sent a mist over the searing rock that hissed into steam. He hopped down into the trench, followed by Fennyx and Torryn, and Zevander stepped aside, allowing the villagers to file after them.
Minutes passed, some of the villagers casting wary glances toward the wall of flames at either side of them as they passed through. When the last villager hopped down into the trench, followed closely by Verena and Rykaia, a hand slid into mine, and I twisted back around to find Zevander standing beside me.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
* * *
Rykaia reached for me, pulling me through the hole in the wall of Arcanaca Tower and onto the grassy bank, then past the crumbled stones where we’d first entered the tunnels.
Behind me, Zevander pushed through and brushed the dust off his blood-spattered leathers.
Overhead, the moons and stars shone brighter than I’d ever seen them before, the dark gloom no longer dulling their brilliance.
“You two go on ahead,” Zevander said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
When he pulled Branimir’s bloodstone from his pocket, I gave a solemn nod. Hand in hand, Rykaia and I crossed the expansive stretch of grass, where the lifeless white had already begun to fade beneath a pale green.
“Do you suppose Branimir is up there somewhere.” Rykaia looked skyward, a sadness clinging to her voice.
I glanced over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of Zevander crouched at the entrance, staring down at the stone captured in his palm. A fading glimmer of Branimir stood beside him, his hand resting on Zevander’s shoulder. “He’s much closer,” I said, tears forming in my eyes, and I looked back to the path.
“It isn’t fair that the world takes so cruelly.”
Another glimpse showed Zevander pushing to his feet and the spectral image of Branimir faded. “It isn’t. But the universe likes balance. I suspect it’ll give something back.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re pregnant, Maevyth?”
Snapping my attention back to her, I blurted an ungracious sound through my nose. “Definitely not.”
She turned away with a sigh. “Then, I can’t think of anything the universe could possibly offer to replace what it’s taken.”
“I suppose it remains to be seen.” I squeezed her hand, the two of us approaching where the crowd had gathered in front of Arcanaca Tower. “Keep your heart open, just in case.”
She offered a sad smile. “I’ll try.”
The villagers parted ways, moving across the land like ghosts, lost and broken, presumably returning to what was left of their homes.
I couldn’t begin to imagine the destruction. The devastation of families torn apart by death. Heaven help them, if their memories flickered to life with those images.
Even then, the scent of blood and rot lingered in my throat. A repulsive taste I longed to spit out and forget.
