Chapter 16 Moonlight
Chapter sixteen
Moonlight
Jaga
“We’ll go to the cliffs,” Chors says, looking at me with a sweet smile. “I promised you, remember? It’s beautiful up there with the full moon in the sky.”
I watch Weles from the corner of my eye. His face freezes into a mask of neutrality, the same one Woland wore. It’s shocking how many similarities there are between god and beast, even though they look completely different. They are one, though. I should never forget it.
“Bring her back in one piece,” he says, his voice bland, almost bored, as he pierces Chors with his dark gaze.
Chors isn’t cowed. He chuckles, his eyes sparkling. “I thought you’d demand to join us.”
Weles shakes his head, turning away with a snap of his black cloak. “Go. I have things to do.”
Chors shrugs and comes closer. His arms wrap around me, warm and familiar, supple with lean muscle now that he is at full power. I embrace him back, sighing with relief when his scent envelops me, water and evening dew, and something plantlike, maybe lilies, maybe ferns.
“I’ll keep you safe.”
My scornful snort is swallowed by the wind when magic hurls us through the world, shadows flashing by as Chors’ silver light tangles in my hair. It lasts only a few seconds before our feet touch the ground.
“I keep myself safe these days,” I say, my voice fully controlled even after that dizzying experience.
Chors nods seriously. “Of course. But isn’t it comforting to know you have someone on your side? I always know my father will protect me if I fail. It lessens the fear.”
I’ve never had that.
My heart squeezes in my chest, and I turn away to look at the view.
We stand on top of a tall cliff, just a step away from the edge.
Above us, the night sky is clear and brilliant with stars, the full moon still low over the horizon.
Behind us, pines creak ominously in the wind, but that sound is barely heard over the roaring, splashing, roiling sea.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Chors asks with hushed reverence.
I can’t speak. The darkness below us churns like a living, giant organism, a thing of fury and violence.
It beats against the cliffs, its attack rhythmic and unstoppable.
Waves rise and foam, crashing into the cliff face.
The sea is a vision of dark shadows and silvery highlights, of black depths and sharp edges cast in relief by the moonlight. My heart stutters in awe.
Here is a thing bigger than me, bigger than Woland, than all the gods. For a mad, exhilarating moment, I wonder what it would feel like to throw myself into its embrace.
I’d be one with eternity. But then…
I’d never see such beauty again.
When Chors puts his arm around my shoulders, I realize they shake. I don’t cry, not really, but my chest bursts with a strange sorrow. I never thought beauty could hurt so much.
“What are you thinking? I can’t tell,” he whispers, his voice falling perfectly into a tiny gap between the crash of waves.
I shake my head. I’m not thinking anything. This is a feeling, pure and terrible, and I don’t fully grasp what it means. I’m terrified I’m doomed.
“Let me be,” I choke out, gazing at the horizon far away, water and night sky meeting in a kiss.
I can’t understand how this thing of terrible beauty could have been here all along without me knowing. It’s as if a secret piece of the universe is uncovered, just like when I got drunk on Woland’s blood. Except, that was his, and this thing here is only mine.
I shake off Chors’ arm and gently reach out with my magic, letting it be a vine climbing down the cliff.
I sink my little magic claws into the stones, feeling how cold they are, how ancient.
These stones do not care for me. All they know is the water that assaults them day and night, chipping away at their existence.
When my magic meets the sea, I jolt. I was right. It is a living thing, awful and great. It senses my intrusion and responds with a touch of its own. I’m pulled deeper, my magic sinking into the waters like an anchor.
It does not speak words, but I understand its meaning.
Welcome. You are here. I am here. Behold me. See me. I am.
I close my eyes and sway, feeling the turbulent waters close around me, bubbles tickling my skin. I am still up on the cliff, but my magic is the vessel for my consciousness, and I let it be surrounded by the cold waters.
Yes. Behold me. It is important that you do. I must be witnessed, and at this moment, you are the one I choose.
I spread myself wider, feeding more magic into my link with the sea.
I am thin and transparent, a thing of red light and fury, and the waters tug me this way and that, sliding over me, pressing in.
I send my consciousness out, further and further, seeking the northern edges of the sea.
But there is only our cliff, the island of Nawie, and then, infinite waters rolling far, far away, into the night sky.
I come back to my body, gasping for breath. There is no other edge, or maybe it is so far, I cannot reach it. The sea is enormous, powerful, and completely oblivious to the fates of men and women. All it wants is to exist and be witnessed, and it chose me.
When Chors wipes away my tears, I realize I’m crying. He says nothing, and I don’t look at him. He is so mundane, so small. Even his light is only a handful of particles sliding over the surface of the being below us.
We stand in silence for a long while, until I realize how cold the wind is. This is no mainland wind. It’s icy and humid, flinging shards of water into my face. I let my coat fall to my feet and open my arms wide.
The sea is so large. Maybe it can contain me.
I scream at the top of my lungs, my roar stolen by the wind, flung high into the sky. When I’m out of breath, I fill my lungs with cold air and do it again and again until I’m hoarse. Finally, I have a way to let it all out. Oh, it’s ugly, unseemly, uncontrollable.
But the sea takes it.
When I’m done, my chest feels empty, all my fury and hurt spent into the night. This isn’t like when I burned through my soul in the past. That left me numb and hollow, barely a person. Now, I still feel, but there is space within me.
My heart is bruised and scarred, which I didn’t allow myself to notice before. With a sigh, I ask it for forgiveness. All it wants is to beat, and I let it get trampled—even trampled it myself every time I so dismissively asked for death.
As the sea crashes into the cliff I stand on, and a cold breeze bites at my face, I breathe in until my lungs feel like bursting. Alive. I am alive.
And I want to stay this way.
Oh, how it complicates things. It was easier not to care.
“Tell me,” I murmur, not caring that Chors must strain to hear me. “When I asked to see Weles and you sent me to Woland, was it because you thought I knew? Or did you betray me?”
He sighs heavily, but I don’t turn to see. I am entranced by the churning waters, and it feels like I could never stop looking. Each wave is different, and there’s power in the spectacle, an ancient force that can’t be harnessed.
“He said he would tell you who he is, and after that, I didn’t speak with him for a long time.
He was so busy with you, and we barely saw each other.
I thought you knew. The way you spoke of him felt odd, but Jaga, I am not good at discerning unsaid things.
When something seems strange to me, I attribute it to my own lack of understanding, not that of others. ”
“Good. You’re forgiven.”
“Must you forgive me if I did exactly as you asked?”
I can’t help smiling as I turn to look at his beautiful face. He’s at his loveliest when he’s bathed in moonlight.
“Yes, sweetheart. I must forgive you, because you caused me much heartbreak and suffering. I meant to see Weles to be rid of Woland forever, and you brought me right to him. You said he wouldn’t hurt me. Remember?”
His face falls, his eyes creasing with guilt. “He does his best, but sometimes his best is not good enough. We hurt him very much, Jaga. A wounded beast will lash out, will it not?”
“Wounded.” I scoff under my breath, shaking my head. “Well, you’re forgiven whether you think you need it or not. Now, I have a favor to ask. You’re his son. You must know a lot about his creation and magic. About death, life—and souls. Help me.”
Chors’ lips twist in reluctance, but I don’t wait for him to refuse me. I drop my shields and barriers, each and every last one, and let the fractured mess of my soul unfurl.
He gasps, and I close my eyes, knowing how ugly it must look.
My soul, which used to be a sweet, tiny thing nestled in the deepest part of my heart, is like a tattered cloak.
It’s enormous, its tendrils and jagged edges uncontained.
It spreads outside my body, pulsing red, fluttering and throbbing with the ebb and flow of my being.
I saw it in the mirror when I was alone.
It’s a red light, sometimes as bright as poppies, other times—as dark and thick as congealed blood.
It looks organic, like raw tissue, but at the same time, it’s not.
It can’t be grasped, yet it feels everything.
It’s raw, so very vulnerable when parts of it protrude outside the protection of my body.
It’s like having my heart out, subject to the whipping of rain and wind, easily wounded by a hostile look or an unfriendly word.
Woland thought it was a travesty—what I did to his heart. But this is so much worse.
“You… But… It’s so… large.”
“It’s disgusting,” I say with a bitter smile, keeping my eyes closed. I can’t bear to see the look of repulsion on his gorgeous face. Chors will never desire me again after seeing this. No one will.
“I… I mean…”
“You can say it. I don’t mind. I know what it looks like.”
Chors releases a shaky breath. I hiss, flinching back, when something cold slithers along a particularly long tendril of my soul.