Chapter 56
FIFTY-SIX
CYAN
The river stretched wide before him, a massive expanse of water cutting through Gaia’s untamed wilderness. The current flowed with a low, constant hum, soothing in its relentless motion. Cyan’s oars dipped into the water with a steady rhythm, each stroke echoing in the quiet of the early morning.
Cyan sat at the stern of the rowboat, staring listlessly at the figure wrapped in a pale shroud, lying in the center of the boat. Priad sat silently between Cyan’s legs, his heavy chin propped on his master’s thigh. His silver eyes tracked every ripple in the river, ever watchful.
The cave wasn’t far now.
He’d found this place long ago—a sanctuary tucked deep in the wilderness, away from everything. It was where he had come as a boy to think, to escape, to dream. A peaceful place, where Elaina could rest.
Each stroke of the oars felt like penance, his muscles straining with more than exertion. Empty silence filled his chest. Within days of Elaina’s death, word spread that the various irregularities that had been reported across the four quadrants had ceased. Systems recalibrated, weather events calmed. The Architect was gone, the universe—their simulation —no longer held in fate’s corrupted grasp, but none of it mattered. None of it would bring her back.
The boat drifted on, carried by the current more than Cyan’s efforts. The riverbanks were thick with trees, their roots reaching out like skeletal fingers. The rising sun cast soft golden light over the shimmering water.
“You did this,” he told her, wishing she could see.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. There had been so much he wanted to say, and to know. But it was too late. The memory of her touch lingered on his skin, but already it was fading. Soon it would be nothing but a ghost of what he’d almost had.
Priad whined and lifted his head from Cyan’s side. His claws thumped against the wood of the boat as he circled, then made his way toward Elaina’s body. He looked down at her, then at Cyan, bringing his big wet nose down to nudge at her shrouded hand.
“Leave her be, boy.” Cyan commanded, but Priad was persistent, shoving his nose against her fingers.
Cyan reached over to grab the warg’s thick leather collar and pull him back, but as he leaned over Elaina’s form, he paused.
A faint glow.
His pulse quickened. The white shroud—thin and almost translucent—glowed crimson.
“Elaina?” The oars slipped from his grasp, clattering with a dull thud. He scrambled to his knees beside her.
Cyan’s hands shook as he unwrapped the fabric gently, part of him wanting to squeeze his eyes shut. He didn’t know if he could handle seeing her again, like that.
But as he exposed her bare flesh beneath the fabric, he froze. A glowing crimson line traced the length of her sternum, pulsing blue beneath the shroud. The jagged pattern was unmistakable—a reflection of the sword that had pierced her.
His heart pounded. How cruel was the universe, to make him hallucinate such things? Was he in a dream or a nightmare?
He stared at her face, searching for any sign, any flicker of movement, anything.
Then her fingers twitched.
The smallest motion, barely more than a spasm, sent a shock through him. He stared as her hand slowly, painstakingly curled into a fist, then relaxed again.
Cyan hovered over her, afraid to touch, afraid to wake up.
And then her eyes fluttered open.
“Elaina?” Cyan’s voice faltered as he leaned closer, his hand finally brushing her cheek. Warmth spread through his fingertips and relief crashed through him. “Gods.”
Her gaze was unfocused at first. Her lips parted as she drew in air. Then her eyes met his, and for a moment they were both seeing each other for the first time. Elaina blinked, confusion crossing her features as she tried to sit up. Cyan quickly moved to support her, limbs shaking but numb as he guided her into a sitting position.
Elaina’s voice came out weak, but the words were there. “I… I’m here.”
Something wild and joyous tore through Cyan as he drew her into his arms. He tried to be gentle, not to crush her in his embrace. But her body was so warm, solid, alive . He buried his face in her hair, breathing deep.
“I thought I’d lost you,” his voice was raw against her ear. “Gods, I thought… I thought you were gone.”
Elaina leaned into him, frail arms wrapping around his waist. She didn’t speak, but her fingers tightened at his back, telling him everything. They stayed like that for an eternity, the river carrying them slowly downstream, the world around them fading into insignificance.
Finally, she pulled back, her gaze locking onto his. “We did it?” she whispered with a small smile. Her weak voice was barely audible, yet in that moment it was all he could hear.
Cyan nodded silently, throat shifting in a choked swallow. He cupped her face, wiping away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. His gaze slid to her breast. The Architect’s shard was gone, as was the sword he’d clung to as his anchor for so long. But the mark of both remained in the crimson line running up her sternum. Cyan pressed a gentle palm to the scar, searching her eyes.
“It’s glowing. Do you see it?” he asked.
Elaina pressed her hand atop his, the heat of life radiating through him like a little sun. “I do.”
As the boat drifted toward the cave, Cyan held Elaina close, the red thread on her chest pulsing between them like the start of something new.