Epilogue
M onths passed, and spring in the outside world was now a realistic hope. I was still the Lady of the Ashen Mountain, and I was adjusting to my role. Zariel was right—angels griped and groaned about Zariel being the High Artist, but no one could agree on any other single candidate. And they had to admit that having a human to assist them in dealing with the humans was a huge help—the fact that the second set of human-gifted supplies included a lot of chocolate worked in my favor. Besides, Zariel was hardly a dictator—he made it clear that the goal was to get home. After what the High Artist tried to do, the consensus was that other means should be tried first. Turned out that the High Artist’s plan was definitely not as popular as we feared—most angels had sense. But as always, those with sense tended to keep their opinions to themselves .
In between helping Zariel at the mountain, I was also pursuing my degree. Slowly. I was right—the university was more than accommodating of my unique issues considering the unparallelled knowledge I had access to. But they were clear that I would still have to show the academic rigor necessary for a PhD.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“There’s someone here to see you, Lady,” Cael said with a small smile, walking into our study. “He came with the morning patrol.” One change we made was that once a day, an angel would see if there was someone or something that needed our attention outside of the mountain. So far, it was merely supplies or correspondence, since few visitors were brave enough to go through the ash. Occasionally we received gifts from fans, including 3D printed angel bobbleheads. I hoped that the giver would be pleased that they took their place in the library next to a fossilized unicorn skull.
Again, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My mother was planning on visiting, and she said that she was going to arrive sometime between now and next Christmas, bring her book club, and stay for an extended holiday.
That … I would have any other way.
But that was tomorrow’s problem.
Silv entered the room behind Cael, dressed in his normal jeans and a hoodie, his horns barely visible through his hair. His eyes were beet red from the ash, but other than that he seemed to have survived the clouds alright.
“Silv!” I said, running to give him a hug. “You made it! I didn’t think you’d come back so soon.” Aniela walked in behind him wearing the library’s gauzy robes, by now recovered from her ordeal. Physically, at least. She gave me a little wave in greeting and stayed back, letting me say hello to my friend.
“Cat,” Silv said, wrapping me in his padded arms. “I’m glad to see you’re still alright.” He gave a not-so-subtle glare at Zariel, who remained impassive at his desk. Silv may have blamed him for why I was now in the notorious mountain.
“My mate is fond of you,” Zariel said, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t test it.”
“Stop. Both of you.” I chuckled, having seen this exchange a couple times already. Silv would tease, Zariel would threaten, and that was how it was going to be.
“What brought you here?” I asked. “Are you finally staying with us?”
“Not quite,” Silv said, handing over the canvas bag. “Though Dimmy has another message for you.”
“No.” I groaned. “Please, no.”
“Don’t worry. I ignored him. As always.” He looked at the bag as I took it, unprepared for its weight. “But I did bring it in case you want to read another plea to have him stay in the mountain. ”
“I’d sooner let my mother’s book club live here,” I muttered and Silv chuckled.
“Depending on what’s in here,” Silv said, “I may be staying with you.” He glanced at Zariel, who watched, curious. “If the High Artist is alright with it.”
“He is,” I answered for him. Silv was non-negotiable. Zariel nodded in agreement. He wouldn’t make me lose a friend.
I opened the bag and pulled out a giant book written in elvish script. With the book were two notes—one addressed to me and another to Zariel.
“Is that …?” Aniela asked.
“The elves,” I said, collapsing into my chair across from Zariel’s. The book weighed heavy on my lap—this was the secret that could bring the worlds back to normal. All of that. Here. Waiting to be read. “They replied.”
“It worked,” Cael said. “It really worked.”
Silv nodded. “Apparently they sent it to a human, who drove it to Princeton, and I happened to find her roaming around the department before the university goons did.”
“And she trusted you?” I asked.
“Once I showed that I knew everything that was in that letter and the ultimate goal, yes.” Silv frowned. “Though she did have a purse that I thought was made of a real cat at first. She may not have the best judgment.”
“I disagree,” I said. “I like her already. ”
I tossed Zariel his letter and opened mine. There was no point in my looking at the book—I couldn’t read a word of elvish.
Dear Catalina,
We have sent the book you requested, and I’m writing separately to assure you that we will do everything that we can to help. Should you have any further need, please do not hesitate to ask. I was told that you don’t have an angelic name, and it sounds a bit, well, Californian to me. I might be wrong, but I thought you may be human from this world, like myself. In which case, I want to state again—we will do everything that we can to help.
Amber, Queen of the Darkening Woods
“The elves have a human queen?” I asked.
“Apparently so,” Zariel said, his eyes on his letter. “And we happened to write to them right as the Darkening Woods was undergoing a bit of a coup. Eldrin, the king’s older brother, has claimed the throne.”
I blinked. “I have a feeling there’s a story there.”
I handed the book to Zariel, the one on which we pinned all our hopes. He had spent countless nights re-mastering old elvish script and language, preparing for this moment. In doing so, I saw firsthand just how brilliant he was—his ability to master languages was beyond what a memory rune could do, especially since he had no direct translation. He had to use one source to translate another, and then another, until finally the elven dialect at issue, mastering four languages to get the one we needed. But he did it. Once the book was on his lap, he paused, running a finger over the delicate gold script. And then, taking a deep breath, he opened it, cracking the ancient spine.
And read.
And read.
While Zariel was reading, buried in the book, I turned to Silv. “This may take a while. Since you’re here, do you want to—”
“We were right,” Zariel said, looking up from the book, excitement lit on his face. “Cat, we were right. It was a god.”
Silv cursed. Something about how he never should’ve left his hut that fateful morning. Cael and Aniela glanced at each other, worried.
“What does it say?” I asked.
“In short—there are at least two recorded instances of the worlds shifting involving gods, I have to read more, but it seems like those were smaller shifts. With one, a god was looking for their child and chased them into another realm. With the other, a god was mourning their broken heart and wanted to leave all reminders behind.”
“You’re all here because a god is … looking for something?”
“Or fleeing. Or causing mischief. Who can say?” Silv crossed his arms. “Gods aren’t known for their subtlety. Or caring about others. ”
“It explains so much,” I said, “remember how we discussed that the worlds shifting brought us together, and there is a similarity in name between the mountain and Princeton? If a god did this, it makes sense that the like would go to like. Because the god is looking for something.”
“Again, you’re assuming there is a rational explanation for this,” Silv said. “How are we even going to know where the god is, much less what it wants?”
“Easy,” Zariel said. “We have a way to reach the other pieces of our world and organize communication. We start by telling everyone what we have learned—and asking everyone to watch.”