Chapter 39 #2
I nodded. “And they’ll do it by whatever means necessary. Whether that’s false promises, kidnapping, threats, violence, or straight up lies.”
Which means Akosua didn’t join Chthonia willingly. A white moth fluttered on the damp air. Gaia held out a finger.
“What if breaking our telepathic connection was a last resort?” I said, the idea unfolding like a winning hand. “Not to destroy us but—”
To save us, she finished, her answer coming through the foliage as a slight tremor in the earth. And now… The moth drifted in the cool air, closer, until it landed on her pointer. We need to save her.
“Alright.” I rubbed my palms together. “What are the magic words?”
“Excuse me?” The warm light radiating from her wings bounced off the dainty insect’s.
“You know, to summon the Angel of Air?” Was it hot in here, or was it just me? “That was our first task, right? I assumed there was a spell or incantation.”
Squinching her nose, Gaia patted my shoulder. The moth took flight at the movement. “We call upon Fei the same way you called upon me. Walk into her lair with an open heart.”
“Where’s that?”
“On the outskirts of a village just outside one of my favorite cities on Mortal Earth: Ho Chi Minh.”
My jaw fell. “Vietnam?” I hardly had enough money, enough excuses, to pull off coming here. How the hell was I going to go on another trip, let alone one on the literal opposite side of the world?! “Can’t you just go back the way you came and grab her?”
“Empyrea’s fortified. You know, threats of war and all that. Once you leave, you can’t go back in. At least for now.”
The pale lighthouse on that mossy Icelandic bluff whipped across my mind.
If Gaia was here, we could just go there right now. It was a portal.
“Those are also locked,” she quipped.
My face turned wintry. “Hasn’t anyone told you it’s rude to read people’s minds?”
She laughed, and flowers bloomed from the vines creeping over the walls. “There’s the River I’ve missed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, so we go to Fei’s lair, and then she just…” My brows furrowed. “Appears?”
“She’ll receive the summoning. It’s kind of like those chimes when you walk into a mini-mart that lets the clerk know you’re there.” She twirled a rogue strand of hair around her finger. “Ooooh, can we hit one of those on the way back to ískastali? They have the best hot dogs.”
“We?” I blinked.
She shot me a wry smile in return. “I’m coming with you. Obviously. But first we need to honor the monarchy. I know some of the queen’s methods were questionable—”
“Unethical,” I amended.
“Sure, but it was all for the sake of her kingdom. You might know someone who did the same?” She tilted her head, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who sacrificed everything to protect the ones they love?”
My heart twisted.
“Regardless,” she went on, her wings ruffling behind her, “it’s tradition.”
I inhaled deeply.
I hadn’t even thought about going back to Hamarinn, about who and what I’d have to face.
Had they removed Hildur’s body from the arena?
Was the entire realm aware of what happened?
Had Ryder kept his promise or had he massacred them all?
Anxiety built in my chest, trapped and roiling like the steam in the jelmadag.
“But first,” she said, “that hot dog.”
My forehead crinkled. Here I was, shoulders heavy and caving, nearly crushed by the panic, and Gaia, the Angel of Earth—the literal epitome of strength and divinity and justice—was worried about… hot dogs.
“Lighten up, River.” Wings shaking off the thin layer of moisture that’d accumulated from the spray of the falls, she patted me on the back, then strutted towards the tunnel, her holy light dwindling as she walked further into the shadows. “We’ve got plenty of dark times ahead.”
“Don’t they feed you in Empyrea?” I called after her.
“No!” she cackled. “Angels don’t feel hunger. When I come here, my body shifts into a vessel that’s much more mortal. Now, if you don’t hurry up, I think I might faint of starvation, and then you’ll have to carry me to Hamarinn!”
Tripping over vines and loose boulders, I sprinted after her, and we made our way back through the passage, but this time, she wasn’t leading.
This time, we walked side by side.
We treaded through the labyrinth of darkness, over the bones, then finally past the altar, the candles now burning bright. It was empty, silent, not a sign of my doppelg?nger.
As we neared the cave’s gaping mouth, a silhouette stood beneath the overhang, painted in the coral tint of sunset. It was her—me—facing the vale, the mess of her hair blowing softly in the wind.
I slowed. “What is she doing?”
Waiting, the angel answered, crossing over to the mirror version of me. Gaia gave her a warm smile, her cheeks full and rosy.
“For what?” I breathed.
For you to let her go.
On a tight inhale, I approached the twisted image of myself, the soles of my feet sliding over the skeletal remains.
Only when I was standing beside her, my arm brushing hers, did she turn to greet me. My breath slipped at that haunting black stare. Muscles trembling, I reached for her hand. It was stiff and cold as a corpse.
Her eyes darted to my grip. Hollow, uncertain, but then her fingers wrapped around mine.
Our heartbeats synced, slowed, as we stood there, taking each other in, faces tinged by the deepening orange and pink hues of the world.
Between one breath and the next, one spontaneous blink, she was gone, and I was holding nothing but air. A ragged exhale left my lips.
Even though I could no longer see her, I knew she was still there. Part of my soul, part of my shadows, part of my Source. Part of me.
“Ready now?” Gaia asked, her curious emerald eyes ablaze.
I nodded, my gaze roving over her brilliant white feathers—those were going to draw a lot of attention.
As she crossed the threshold, her wings shimmered into nothing but a shadow, a play of the dwindling light. There. The word pulsed through my mind.
So, it wasn’t just her stomach that shifted into something more human, it was all of her.
“You coming, Angel of Water?” she tossed over her shoulder, fiery irises deepening to a solid hunter green.
“Are we walking?” I asked, following her out into the open wilderness.
A star studded the sky, then another, and another as the sun dipped below the mountains, twilight taking its indigo hold. I shivered against the cold that Gaia seemed to embrace.
Her lips tilted into a mischievous grin.
Placing the tips of her thumb and pointer finger in her mouth, Gaia blew, letting out a shrill whistle that echoed off the canyon and rang through the natural hollow.
Hooves patted the soil. A moonlit horse galloped into view, silver-white mane flapping in the wind. Something glimmered on its forehead: a fractal of crystal, of pearl—a horn.
The unicorn came to a halt in front of us, the breeze kissing its silky hair.
My hand shot to my mouth. At the sudden movement, the creature took a cautious prance back, its nostrils flaring.
“She’s a tad skittish,” Gaia warned. “Let her take the lead.”
Slowly, I extended my palm. “What’s her name?”
“Rune. Pretty, huh?”
Whinnying, Rune pawed the earth.
Gaia’s voice was soft and sweet. “Saell gamli vinur.”
“What did you say?”
“Hello, old friend.”
Horn glistening, Rune kicked up her head, nosing my empty palm.
“Hi, girl.” I gently pressed my free hand against her muzzle, running it over the velvet fur. “I wish I had a treat for you.”
“The elves will have plenty at the stables,” Gaia said, drifting to Rune’s side. Dropping her face close, she whispered, “Leyfi til ae hjóla?”
Tips of her ears twitching, the unicorn’s front legs dipped low.
“Permission to mount has been granted.” Gaia patted Rune’s dappled white shoulder blades. “Come on. You first.”
Grabbing a handful of Rune’s lustrous mane, I hoisted myself up, scooching to the base of her neck. The Angel of Earth hopped on after me, sitting flush with my back. Taking two full strands of the unicorn’s hair in her fists, Gaia lightly tapped her boots against Rune’s sides.
With the speed of a falling star, we shot through the headlands, the caves and glaciers and meadows blending into one, as we rode alongside the icy wind.