Page 32

Chapter 31

A Mother's Memories

“Arrows and swords don’t work. Wraiths will actively seek light, but they’re usually lurking in dark spaces until they strike. If they’re in the open, you have to trap them, or redirect them, which is what we usually do.”

“You’ve never killed a wraith?” Kiran asked, his face paling. I felt mine do the same.

“How on earth do you redirect them?” Fionn asked, getting to the point.

“We use light captured in crystals to lure them away, but we have a limited supply. It’s not wielded light like the lumis within your orbs, so it’s nowhere near as strong, and we can’t create more on our own. You have plenty of orbs around this citadel, though. I assume it’s why your elders insist on keeping it so well lit, in case a wraith ever escapes. If they’ve roamed too high within the citadel and you can’t find an exit, you could try wielding light into them the same way you would any object. It would probably take a significant amount of light, though.”

“We have to touch them?” I asked, trying not to show any fear, but my stomach was churning at the thought.

He gave me a small frown. “You may not have to. Your light works differently. Other vessels will, including your mother. If they’re not trained to fight, they’ll die in the attempt.”

“How do we trap them, then?” my mother asked, ignoring the rest of his words, yet a loaded look passed between her and Fionn that made me uneasy.

“Circle them with lumis orbs, then tighten the net until they’re pinned in the middle. With our crystals, it usually makes them go into a slight stupor so you can get closer and direct them easier.”

“Is there no way to bring them back?” Mara asked quietly.

“Not that we’ve found,” Raed answered when Nier hesitated. “Every Fallen generation tries new methods; none have succeeded.”

“Here,” I said, grabbing Nier’s hand and putting his knife into it. “If knives don’t work on a wraith, you need to take it back. I’m likely to be searched as soon as I enter the citadel, and I don’t want it ending up in their hands.”

Nier nodded but with a frown, unhappy but accepting.

“I’ll hold it for you, but I’m not taking it back. Once you wield a stygian blade against someone, that blade becomes yours. It’s a part of our culture. The blades go where they are needed.” His tone was somber and serious as he spoke. This was important to him. He strapped the blade back onto his bicep where it had originally sat and gave it a quick pat when it was in place. The myriad blades strapped all over him spoke volumes of the life he led.

“If you’re leaving, we need to figure out how to get the two of you out without going through the Sanctorum,” Kiran said, changing the subject onto more immediate, practical matters. “We can’t risk you being found by the Apex Flight. I’m assuming you can pass through the halo, unlike us?”

“Yes. We shadow walk through,” Nier said.

“You mean that thing you did to me earlier?” Kiran looked green at the memory, and Nier smirked as he nodded. “So we just need to get you to it without being seen. Can you shadow walk your way to the wall and over it?”

“We could if it was dark,” Raed answered for Nier, “but it’s approaching the middle of the day. There’s not a lot of shadow out there, and a lot of guardians looking for us from the sound of it, likely to get jumpy at moving shadows attempting to breach the border.”

“Can you make it back into the citadel itself easier?” I asked. “It’s much closer.”

“You mean head toward the wraiths and guardians?” Raed asked, an almost permanent frown now planted on his face.

“Yes,” was all I answered.

Raed raised his eyebrows at his brother like he thought I was simple, but Nier tilted his head and looked at me. “That may work, and we’ll have a lot more cover inside the citadel.”

“Talk to me, brother,” Raed demanded.

“You know how we used to dive off the cliffs at home and compete to see who could swim the deepest?”

“Yeah. Why?” Raed tapped his leg impatiently. He seemed to hate not knowing things as much as my brother did. It was strange to see them sharing such a simple trait when we’d been raised to believe the Fallen to be unfeeling monsters.

“Get ready to hold your breath,” Nier answered, as he lightly punched his twin’s arm.

“You’re going to swim through to the bottom of the vessel pool?” my mother asked, catching on. “That could work.”

“Can you move through doors or walls?” I asked Nier, not sure of the extent of his shadow walking.

“Walls, no. Doors we can go under, but it’s uncomfortable and significantly slows us down. I’ve never attempted more than one in a shadow walk.”

I turned to Fionn and met his gaze for the first time. I wished meeting him could have been under any circumstances other than this. He seemed surprised I was finally acknowledging him. “Can you send a signal to your watchers outside to discreetly open a path of windows and doors to the citadel towers, then get people to stand well back? If they shadow walk through the town houses, they’ll have more cover.”

“I can do that. Give me a minute.” He dashed straight outside, leaving the door open behind him.

“Thank you,” Nier said to me quietly as he pulled me into his arms again, this time just to hold me. “That’s a smart idea.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not as good as you at sneaking around, but I had some practice when I was young. Leaving doors open for simple escapes was a trick I learned early.”

Resting my head on his chest, I closed my eyes and counted every beat of his heart until Fionn returned and told us the path was ready.

“I’m coming back for you. I swear,” he whispered, squeezing me hard enough to make me lose my breath for a moment, before abruptly letting me go and stepping away. He joined his brother near the door, and they both disappeared into the waiting shadows. One moment they were here, and the next, there was nothing but empty shadow.

“That’s unsettling,” Kiran grumbled.

The urge to touch Nier’s shadow at my chest and reassure myself part of him was still here rose like a serpent, and a sharp bite of pain lanced my heart, a warning that we shouldn’t be parted. I refused to give in to the feeling. I didn’t want to distract him right now. His path was as perilous as mine, and I wanted him focused on the task at hand—the same as I needed to be.

“Give them a minute to get clear, then we’ll move you out,” Fionn said. He swallowed hard, then took a deep breath, as if he was trying to get the courage up to do something difficult. I felt bad for him, and my earlier splash of anger toward him disappeared. I’d longed to have a father growing up, yet amongst all the chaos surrounding us in this moment, I couldn’t wrap my head around the reality of him. He was a stranger with my brother’s eyes.

“I know now is not the time for reunions, but I want you both to know I’ve loved you every day of your lives and always hoped one day you’d know me in the way you should.” His words came out in a hushed rush, weighted with conviction as they sank into the quietness of the room.

I looked at Kiran, but he was staring resolutely at the ground. His voice was rough when he spoke. “You were the father I wished I had. It makes me feel cheated that you were right there all along.”

“I’m sorry. We thought it for the best in the beginning.” Fionn shook his head at himself. “Then I couldn’t figure out the right time until it had well and truly passed.”

Kiran finally looked up and nodded abruptly, once. An acknowledgment of Fionn’s words, nothing more. He didn’t forgive easily.

Fionn looked at me, longing clear in his eyes. I felt torn. It was in my nature to forgive. Kiran and I were opposites in that way. Yet this wasn’t a simple one for me. “I grew up assuming our mother didn’t know who our father was. Finding out you’ve known about us all along, even if you’ve had your reasons for staying away, is going to take me some time to feel my way through.”

My mother winced, but Fionn frowned, looking sad. “Unfortunately, time is the one thing we’ve never had,” he replied.

As if the fates were playing a grim joke, whoever was guarding the door took that moment to tap a sequence of sharp raps. “That’s the all clear. We can move out,” Fionn said.

I shared a long look with Fionn, wishing we had time for more yet knowing he was right—that might not be our fate. It made me unbearably sad.

“It’s time. We need to go, now,” my mother added, straightening her spine.

“Leora, I—” my father started to say, but she held up her hand and cut him off.

“We got our night together, like I wanted. Everything has already been said. Now it’s time to act. You must let me do this.”

He nodded, pulling himself straight and standing tall. I had no time to wonder about their relationship as I moved toward the door. There was no point dwelling on things I couldn’t change, and it seemed neither could they.

Fionn helped Cece up from where she was still kneeling on the floor, her eyes wide.

“Will she keep our secrets?” Kiran asked from where he was hovering close behind me, taking Nier’s spot.

“Cece knows how to keep quiet about things she shouldn’t have seen. She’s been doing it a long time. She started out as one of my runners when she was a child.” He looked at her and gave her a smile filled with sadness yet also affection as he signed something to her.

I felt a pang of something I couldn’t quite name. It felt almost like a mix of jealousy and sorrow. He’d undoubtedly helped a lot of stray kids, while I’d never even known he existed. It wasn’t fair. For any of us.

A sense of urgency settled over our motley group, as if the walls of this humble cottage had been a buffer between us and the fate awaiting us outside. Thralls, vessels, gardeners, and a guardian all came together as we moved out the door and onto the street with one purpose. The moment felt momentous, even in its mundane setting.

The sensation settled into a grim forewarning as we moved through the streets and faces peeked from behind shuttered windows. Tension and fear permeated the air, almost like drifting smoke from a fire.

We were about to head into a fight none of us could comprehend, with an uncertain outcome. But I’d made a promise. To survive it. I’d do everything I could to make sure everyone standing with us did too.

Following in my mothers footsteps as she led the way, I glanced up at the halo arching high above us. I couldn’t help but feel that every vessel who had tried and failed to fight back before us walked with us too.

We pulled to an abrupt stop as soon as we reached the lower levels of the citadel. “Right now, we cannot be seen with any of you,” my mother said, as she whirled and held up her hand.

“Mother. No,” Kiran insisted, his words bitten out.

I was glad Nier wasn’t here. If he’d known she was planning to send Kiran and Fionn away too, he may not have left.

She stepped forward and hugged Kiran tightly, catching him off guard. Her body seemed to flow into and around him easily, in a way I’d never seen before. “Kiran, you are loyal and brave. I couldn’t wish for a better son. But ensuring Alula’s survival today is my task, and it has been a long time coming. I know you haven’t always trusted me, but I need you to trust me now.”

He flicked a questioning gaze at me over his shoulder, and I nodded at him before she let him go as abruptly as she’d embraced him. Her back straightened, and her body tensed again as her invisible armor shifted back into place.

“Your sister will need you soon, and when she does, your fate will find you too, so be ready. For now, you need to pretend you were chaperoning Mara in Haniel’s absence. Be public about it. Cause a distraction if you can—it will draw attention away from us—then escort her to safety with the other vessels before you join your flight. They’ll watch over her.”

He pursed his lips as he silently cut his eyes between Mara and me with his head tilted again, before he looked back at our mother. “I’ll do this if you promise to take care of Alula,” he growled.

“I always have, son, even if it didn’t always seem that way,” my mother answered, already back to her cutting directness.

His brusque nod was a slash through the air as he grabbed Mara’s hand, but my friend stood firm and dared raise her eyes to meet my mother’s. She seemed to have found her fortitude again now that the Fallen males were gone and their shadows with them.

“I can help with the wraiths. My light is strong.”

“We know. That’s why you have to go,” my mother answered. “If you fight with us now, you’ll be implicated alongside us. We need you with the other vessels. If anything happens to us, you’re the only one who knows everything we’ve learned.”

Mara frowned but didn’t argue as she turned to me.

“Find Adrita,” I told her, needing to get this message across before she left. My mother may not trust her, but I did. “Tell her I sent you and what’s happening. She’ll figure out who else you can trust.”

I could feel my mother narrow her eyes at me, but I ignored her, turning to Fionn instead. “I’d like Mara to have access to your books. She needs to know everything. She’s the smartest person I know, and I trust her to use the knowledge in them wisely while helping keep their existence a secret. Can you make that happen?”

He nodded. “I’ll find a way. Consider it done.”

“Don’t talk as if you’re not coming back. If you die on me today, I will never forgive you, Alula,” Mara said, tears welling in her eyes as she pulled me to her and hugged her fiercely. “Survive. Flee if you have to. Don’t wait for me. I’ll follow you as soon as I can. I swear I’ll find a way.”

The way everyone kept talking about my need to survive today had a chill seeping from the rough stone walls around us and into my bones. The small hairs on the back of my neck rose as I felt the attention of the deities fix upon us. Nur was close. I could feel her presence deepening the light around us, and I didn’t think she was alone. Had I been right to send Nier away? Or had I damned us?

I hugged Mara as fiercely as my mother had hugged my brother a moment ago, needing the moment of connection our world had denied us for so long. I was glad we’d found our way back to each other. “Every happy memory of my childhood has you in it, Mara. We’ll find a way out for us both.”

I hoped the hovering deities heard me.

When I pulled away, her cheeks were wet. She dashed the tears away with a firm nod as her own armor went back up. I had a sudden flash of insight into what Mara would become if she stayed, and it looked a lot like my mother. Smart, determined, fierce, but hardened by all she’d endured. I wanted a different fate for her.

“Let’s go,” she said to my brother, pulling at his hand. “We need to do our job so they can do theirs.”

Her trust in me was humbling and terrifying.

“I’ll see you when this is done, Alula. No matter what.” My brother shot a stern glare over his shoulder that wasn’t directed at me. It was a warning to the world and anyone who tried to stop him from coming back for me. Did he feel the deities hovering too, and his fate drawing close? I couldn’t shake the feeling that watching him walk away was a bad omen, yet the thought of what might happen to him if he stayed was unendurable.

He’d had my back since the day I was born. It was time I watched his.

Feeling that sharp pain that had stabbed me as Nier left growing stronger in my chest, I watched until they rounded a corner and disappeared.

“You too.” My mother spoke to Fionn as she met his stare but used hand motions to also address the thralls and gardeners milling silently behind him. “Thank you for your help, but right now, you need to go back to your homes. We cannot draw more attention before we’re ready, or this won’t end the way we want.”

Fionn hesitated for a moment, his eyes locked on my mother’s. An entire, silent conversation happened in the space of a heartbeat before he turned and abruptly left. His shoulders and wings were tense, but his steps were steady. His ragtag bunch of rebels followed on his heels, some shooting curious glances back at us. I tried to stand tall until they, too, disappeared from sight, leaving us alone with our fate.

When I turned to my mother, her eyes had locked on me, as if she wouldn’t let herself watch him leave. I couldn’t help but wonder that, despite finally having allies, she was sending all of them away. Except me.

“What now?” I asked, my stomach churning at the unknown. I had no actual plan beyond this point, and I always had a plan. I was grateful my mother seemed intent on staying at my side. She’d always seemed five steps ahead of whatever the world was throwing at us.

“We need to move,” she said, and she dragged me up a stairwell leading to the higher levels of the citadel. It was one of the turret stairwells, and the turns were tight, making me dizzy after just a few turns at the fast pace she set. It seemed she was in a hurry to get the next part over with now that we’d arrived at a point of conflict with the elders.

All the years I’d spent silently watching, waiting for my life to begin. Choking down the questions that were never answered. Now, and from the very moment I’d served my last duty as an acolyte, every interaction was fraught with urgency. As if the world had been waiting for me too.

“I need you to promise me two things, Alula,” my mother said over her shoulder as she charged up the stairs, barely winded and in that tone that brooked no argument. “No matter what comes next, you must follow my lead. Do you understand? It’s important.”

That chill in my bones settled into a deep freeze. Years of conditioning had me nodding my head. My words belied my actions, though, as if I couldn’t quite get the two to match. My old armor didn’t seem to fit quite right anymore. “That’s only one thing.”

She shot me the same fearsome look she gave me when I was a child and I dared to defy her. Any further words dried in my throat. To the world, she was gracious and beautiful, if a little cold. Only Kiran and I knew she had a core of iron.

“You have a kind and generous spirit despite everything the elders have done to break you, but you must play the role of the perfect potentiate one last time,” she hissed. “Do not—under any circumstances—reveal yourself, even to save someone else. It is not your time. Other fates are at play today.”

It was my turn to narrow my eyes, and a sick feeling settled in my gut.

“Mother—”

“No, Alula. Don’t second-guess. Don’t question. There will be a time for that, but it’s not now. You’re not yet strong enough for what follows. What I am about to do will give the other vessels time, and you the space you need to learn your light. I chose my fate a long time ago, and I embrace it willingly. Don’t deny me my place in our history.”

I opened my mouth to argue with her, puffing as we reached a landing midway up the turret, but she turned to me quick as a flash and grabbed my hand with both of hers. “I don’t have time to get to the pool, and I don’t want to risk that you won’t be able to make it back there either. I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable.”

She sketched a sigil on her hand before she placed it on my forehead and pushed light at me—more light than I’d ever felt before. It surged through my veins like a lightning strike. With it came a flood of memories not my own. Ancient memories. The turret disappeared around me as my mind struggled to cope with the rush of emotions and sensations attached to them. It wasn’t a passive sensation, like telling a story. I felt each one of my ancestors at key moments in their lives, what they were thinking and feeling. They flicked through so rapidly, I barely caught glimpses of most of them. It was like someone flipping through the pages of a book, only it was all flooding my mind and my emotions with it. Hundreds of years of love, laughter, fear, betrayal, and rage transferred in moments.

I struggled to breathe through the onslaught. It felt like an eternity later that she let my head go with a jerk, but I knew it couldn’t have been more than minutes. The sun was glaring at me outside the turret window as I came back to myself, and it hadn’t moved at all.

My body lurched to the side, and I fell against the cool stone wall, needing the support for my overheated body. I gagged as nausea swirled, threatening to bring up my rushed breakfast.

“Did it work?” she asked in a quiet, reverent voice I rarely heard from her.

“Uh-huh.” I was so dizzy I could barely get the words out, and they were little more than a choked breath. My mind felt stuffed, overfull with fresh memories that felt like they were all going to spill back out in a cascade, taking my sanity with them. I put my hand to my head in a useless attempt to keep it from imploding, while taking deep breaths, trying to settle back into myself.

“Good,” she said, more forcefully. “You won’t remember them all at once, but they will be there when you need them. They’ve guided me well and comforted me when life seemed impossible, knowing I was part of a long line that would live on within you and your daughters.”

I looked up at her, and for the first time I could ever remember, her eyes appeared damp. I had a flash of her as a young child, sweetly playing with a stuffed woolen doll she had pretended was a baby, and my own eyes welled.

“You loved dolls,” I said breathlessly, caught up in the emotion of her memory.

“I did.” She smiled sadly, and her eyes became unfocused for a moment as she remembered too.

“Why did you do that?” I asked as I stared, seeing the hopes of the naive young girl overlaid against the controlled, hardened woman before me. There were so many more questions I wanted to ask, like what had set her on her path, but I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers right now, not when I could still see the youthful version of her in my mind.

She hesitated for a heartbeat, and at that moment, a strangely large crow flew past the window, letting out a loud caw that sounded like a warning. It startled us both as we jerked our attention to the window. The moment ended, and I sensed so had my opportunity for answers. I watched as my unpredictable and intractable mother pulled herself back together with steely determination.

“Because we’re out of time,” she said as she grabbed my hand again, pulling me off the wall and through a doorway.