Chapter 48
I should’ve been nervous to stack burial stones for the first time.
But it felt right.
He would have supported it.
The minor notes of Markus’s lilting call echoed between the trees of the Aisles. The scratch of his voice matched the stone in my hands, weighty and difficult to bear. Silas, with tears streaming down his face, took the stone from my hands and placed it over the freshly turned earth that covered the late Elder’s wolf form.
My chest ached, spirit hollow.
We’d won the war but lost a warrior.
The days following the death of Nyx were filled with celebration and mourning. We’d lost the Elder and nearly lost Ransom. Asa had gone to work with everything in his arsenal as soon as Ransom crossed the Arcadian border. With rest, Asa claimed Ransom would be almost as good as new, minus a few aches and pains from time to time.
The Elder passed soon after he laid himself down by the river.
Racking sobs overcame Silas’s scratched up body, and I held him, not knowing what else to do. I knew my words wouldn’t comfort him.
After some time, when Silas had calmed down to sniffles and steady breaths, Nash and Caroline arrived with an entourage of Guardians robed in their light blue. I stood, but Silas didn’t move from his seat on the ground. Some of the Guardians lifted Elder Macon’s body with ease, and others lifted the body of Nyx following the first group back to Arcadia. I watched as Silas’s siblings sat by him.
Silas’s bloodstained shoulders shook once more, and he leaned into his sister. Any words he tried speaking were so garbled I couldn’t understand a thing.
Nash moved over, hugging me. “I would say you were stupid, but now’s not the time.”
Despite myself and the yawning hole in my spirit, I chuckled.
“But even if it was stupid, I’m glad you were here.” Nash pulled back enough to glance at Silas. “Who knows what he would’ve done if he’d been alone. The Elder has always been there, kind of like a grandfather figure.”
“I’m so sorry, Nash.”
He smiled at me, a soft, sad kind of smile. “I’m starting to realize a part of growing up means coming to terms with change. I may not like it, but I can’t really fix it either. I simply have to let things be and process them when they come at me.”
Caroline had placed a hand on Nash’s shoulder. Silas stood facing the river, rubbing away tears with the backs of his thumbs.
“Talk to him, please.” She nodded her head towards Silas.
Nash stepped over, words drowned out by the distant rumble of thunder and the rushing of the river.
“I think Silas’s arm is injured.” Caroline sighed, running a hand through her long hair. “And he has a lot of deep gauges and scrapes. Are you hurt at all?”
I shook my head. “Not that I’m aware. Aside from coughing up river water and uncontrollable shaking, I think I came out unscathed. A few scratches and bruises.”
After Nash talked to Silas, they started walking back home, and we followed. The preparations were made, a plot of land dug for the Elder’s body, and stones gathered for his memorial. And the people of Arcadia mourned even while they celebrated the death of their enemy.
The Hunters skinned Nyx’s body, reserving the fur for the evening of Elder Macon’s funeral. The head and tail had been removed to make a ceremonial robe for Silas, and the rest of the thick fur had been used to wrap the Edler before burial.
And now, watching Silas balance the next stone, it amazed me how collected he could be while grieving. Tears streamed down his face, but his hands held the stones steady as he found each balance point. His eyebrows pinched together through the balancing.
I held out the last stone, a pyramid-like rock with round edges.
Silas looked up at me, eyes swollen. “I want you to balance the last stone.”
“Silas, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I whispered.
The eyes of the people of Arcadia dressed in white—standing, kneeling, sitting—watched while Silas balanced the stones. And they would all watch me send the entire stack tumbling.
“I’ll help you.”
Inhaling, I held the stone to my chest. With movements like a sloth, I held the stone over the stack.
“No. You have to be brave.” Silas placed his hands on the rock, rotating it to where one of the points faced down.
“I’ll never get it to balance.” I glanced at him, then back at the stone with a dubious glare.
“Trust yourself. Trust me.” Silas moved his hands to cover mine, his injured one wrapped in cloth. “You have to feel the stone, listen to it through your hands. Allow your thoughts to disappear into the wind.”
Heart pounding, I lowered the stone until it touched the stack Silas had already balanced. Eyes open and head straight, I shifted the stone by millimeters, attempting to find whatever frequency Silas talked about.
I started to move my hands, but Silas pushed them back. “Not yet.”
Markus called out again, a melancholy howl rustling against the leaves.
Silas pushed his hands against mine, turning the stone to the left. “Start here.” He closed his eyes, hands over mine.
I turned my attention back to the stone and repositioned it again. I started to find the off-balance moments. I thought the stone would never balance, but specific stones had been chosen. Surely they would pick stones that would balance with the right touch.
“Stop,” Silas murmured, hands stiffening.
My entire body froze at his command. “What did I do now?”
His eyes opened, that brilliant green glistening when he smiled. “You did it.”
Wary of collapse, I pulled my fingers off the stone, letting my hands fall away. The pyramid stone commanded respect at the top of the stack, looking impossible.
And I realized that Arcadia was like that, too.
Entirely impossible.
Yet absolutely real.