Chapter 61
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Child of everything. Child of nothing. What have you done?
Sweet child.
Lost child.
Child of everything. Child of nothing.
He will come.
Come to claim.
What have you done? Child of all. Child you’ll fall.
He comes. He comes.
Can’t hide.
What have you done?
Child of everything. Child of nothing.
Blackness.
It didn’t surround me. No. I was in blackness, as if it were an entity that swallowed me whole.
There was no sense of time or place. The afterlife, perhaps.
Whatever it was, it was disconcerting. Though, I’d have to admit, it was also peaceful.
Pain hadn’t followed, and if this was where I was to exist for eternity, then I prayed it never found me here.
May our fate be kind. And may we be strong enough if it’s not.
Fate hadn’t been kind.
But had I been strong enough?
Was stabbing myself strength, of the coward’s way out?
I didn’t know.
All I knew was that I was light. Free even. Like I could breathe for the first time in my life—or I suppose, death.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
Maybe there were two kinds of death; one of the body, and one of the soul. My body had succumbed to a dagger, but my soul… My soul had died a thousand times over with every paper cut it received.
Something tapped at the periphery for my attention. A sound, perhaps. It was hard to discern whether it was coming from somewhere else, or from me—like a ringing in the ear. Only, it was more of a leisurely, evenly timed dripping, and I got the impression it was getting closer somehow.
Slowly I realized it wasn’t the melodic tap of a droplet sliding off a leaf to a waiting puddle, but footsteps.
Step.
Step.
Step.
It halted.
I waited in silence long enough that I convinced myself I’d never heard the sound at all.
Fingers snapped.
Instantly, the nothingness of darkness had been replaced by the nothingness of light. My eyes didn’t need time to adjust, but it was difficult to focus too far into the pure white surrounding me that was depthless, and yet not.
The place was unnervingly similar to the one Endymion and I had been trapped in after I’d pulled him into my dream.
I looked down at myself.
No blood.
No blade.
My leathers were replaced with a flowing dress that was as black as the place I’d just come from, adorned with a long, lace train fanned out perfectly behind me.
As I looked forward again, I started, bringing a gloved hand to my chest.
A hooded figure, large in stature, stood just out of reach.
Slowly, fingers ran up the rim of the hood, and I couldn’t help but notice that his hands were young—or relatively so.
Not young like mine. But in his sixties, perhaps.
Which was young, considering I’d half-expected them to me knurled. Ancient.
The hood of his cloak slipped back, revealing a kindly face that looked at me with deep sadness. His moss-green eyes still held a youth his body didn’t. He looked human, but he felt… else. A full head of thick hair had long since silvered, as had his brows.
Something nagged at me as I took him in. Like I’d seen him before.
He just stared at me. And I at him.
“Do I know you?” I finally asked, my voice startling me as it echoed like we were in a large, empty estate.
“Yes. And, no.” His voice was many and one. Old and young. Timeless, yet present.
“I knew you then? When I was human?”
“Yes. And, no,” he said again.
“What does that mean?”
“We’ve met through the shared memories of one we both love.”
My brows furrowed, and I took him in again. I swallowed as my mind reassessed him, slowly reconciling who stood before me with a painting I’d seen almost daily. Shock and realization crashing through me.
“You’re…” I choked on the words. “You’re Mr. Erickson.”
“Yes. And no. Though, that was the human form I took for a time.”
The human form he took for a time? “Who are you?”
“You already know the answer to that, little one.”
He was right. I did. I’d known it the moment I’d heard him walking toward me. “Father Death,” I breathed.
A smile. “Yes.”
“Are you here to claim me?”
“In some ways, yes. In some ways, no.”
I shook my head. “Please, Father. I don’t understand. Why am I here?”
He raised a silvery brow. “I should think it obvious, little one.”
“Because… because I’m dead?” The words harder to say than I’d expected.
His features softened. “No. You’re here because you were willing to sacrifice yourself, lest the spark wind up in the wrong hands. You, little one, were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for those you know. And those you don’t.”
“So…” I hedged, feeling unsure. “I’m not dead?”
He cocked his head. “Do you want to be?”
“Yes.” The word tumbled out of my mouth as if Father Death held power over me to tell the truth—even ones I hadn’t admitted to myself. I looked at him, feeling a sense of shame. Cowardice, even.
That sadness returned to his features. “Why do you chase me so, little one?”
“I don’t—” I went to protest, but stooped myself knowing it was a lie.
I’d had those all-consuming thoughts of not-enough-ness.
I’d even thought the seven hells weren’t some place far below Lumnara’s crust, but resided on her surface in everyday life.
Like when I was called a cursed changeling.
Seeing the ashen remains of our cabin. Saying goodbye to Mrs. E. Kaelun.
It would be a bold-faced lie if I told the reaper of souls that I’d never wondered if meeting him would be less painful than the pain I harbored on a daily basis.
In fairness, I didn’t believe in heaven either. No, I’d constantly looked for it. Like the sunlight on my face in those last moments. But those moments never lasted, there were like pouring honey over dung and calling it sweet.
Faced with those bleak truths, I stared at him, and as I did, I was forced to confront the real reason why I hadn’t hesitated to sacrifice myself—and gods did it hurt.
“Go on,” he said, encouraging me to voice this knowledge.
Tears prickled at the back of my eyes. “I don’t deserve to be the spark,” I choked out. “It doesn’t belong to me.”
“Pray tell. Who does it belong to then?”
“Someone worthy.”
“And you are not worth?”
I shook my head and tears broke free. “No. I’m not.”
“Curious that you would make the ultimate sacrifice and yet deem yourself unworthy.” He considered me before saying, “You came to the world late, little one. Did you know this?”
I shook my head unsure I understood his meaning. I was fairly certain Mother had claimed we’d come early.
“It’s true,” he declared. “The stardust had to wait. You see, it needed twins to incarnate. To a power such as that, years are of little consequence. So, when the fates tugged at your threads, the spark mistook your siblings—the twins as you call them—for you, then quickly withdrew when it witnessed the darkness in their hearts; and not the kind of darkness a star thrives in.” He winked, and despite myself, the corner of my mouth ticked up.
“No, theirs was a darkness that wanted to consume the star’s energy for itself. Forcing it to collapse. Greedy.
“But you, Little Star. You are the opposite. Have been since the first thread of your existence—and the stardust knew that truth long before then.”
“It…” I stumbled on the words. “It chose me?”
“Even better—it waited for you. All that time. For you. There was no other choice. No other that was, nor would be, but you.”
“But, how did it know it was me, not my twin sister?”
“Like your older siblings, your twin’s soul was greedy for the power. In fact, as the stardust waited for you to take your first breath, she’d tried to cleave it from you. And so, I was forced to claim her.”
“You killed my twin?” I asked in disbelief.
He shook his head. “No. I claimed her. There’s a difference. She chose death over a life where the power was just within her grasp, but never within reach.”
My mind reeled to comprehend what he he’d just explained. “Why are you telling me all of this?” I asked, my voice soft.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he said with a smile. “You need to understand just how important you are, little one. To understand that the fates themselves whispered to me many moons ago that I shall not claim the one who is worthy of this power.”
“But I thought you said I was born worthy?”
“To be born worthy, and to prove yourself worthy, are much different things.”
“And you think me worthy now?”
“I do, yes. More importantly, they do.”
“The fates?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His features lit up as a full smile graced his aged face, and there was no mistaking his pride.
“Little one,” he said reverently, “you’ve never asked what is in it for you.
Not once. You’ve never sought to use your powers for your own gain.
If those things weren’t enough, you chose to rid Lumnara of the source power over it being perverted by those who would use it to serve their own machinations.
You made a clever bargain to ensure it. All to save those you love.
There was no hesitation. You knew the right thing to do, and you didn’t flinch at the personal cost. And in those last moments, your only thought was of the pain your loved ones would carry. ”
“And others,” I said, cocking my head, “they wouldn’t do the same?”
He softened. “No. They wouldn’t.”
“I don’t understand. Surely if someone else was in my shoes, they would’ve chosen the same path. It was the only option.”
He gave me a knowing smile. “And that right there, little one, is why you’re worthy. It’s that exact deep-rooted truth within you that made you the only choice.”
The axis of my world seemed to shift. If what he was saying was true, then the spark had chosen me with the same conviction that I’d chosen to die over granting Wymond what he wanted.
I hadn’t known what would happen to the spark after I died, but I knew on a soul level that she wouldn’t be destroyed.
That she’d find another way to incarnate—or I guess, reincarnate.
Clearing my throat, I said, “When I asked if you were here to claim me, you said yes and no. What does that mean?”
“This is where it gets complicated, little one.” I raised a brow but kept the quip bubbling on my tongue to myself.
“Your inability to believe that you were chosen is misguided, but there’s no inherent risk.
However, believing yourself unworthy of life—that, little one, is more dangerous than you could possibly know. ”
“I don’t understand.”
“You have to start fighting to live instead of looking for ways to escape. Allow me to be blunt with you as Lady Time is knocking at my door. Your path has been hard—there is no denying that. But if I spare you, I need you to understand that it’s not likely to get easier.
“If you can’t fight to live now, then I shall claim you, for it will be the same ending either way. So, I’ll ask you, little one—will you walk the Fates’ tightrope or shall you become mine?”
My answer wasn’t immediate, and his brows furrowed.
The truth was that I didn’t know.
Closing my eyes, I searched for my truth. It would be so, very easy to become his. To make it all stop. To drift back to the painless ether.
But what about those that loved me and that I loved?
I could see Rackna looking up at me with hopeful eyes in front of the library. “It’s great honor.”
Kai’s soft smile through the mirror. “Come back home to us.”
Caius’ words before I left. “Nyleeria, I need you to hear me when I say you must come home. Please know that I don’t say this as a High Lord, or even as a fae. I say it as a son who sacrificed everything because I believed that you existed.”
Be strong.
From the first moment I laid eyes upon you.
Unending tears rolled down my cheeks as memory after memory flooded me until my eyes flew open and I voiced my truth.
“I want to live.”
A small sound of approval escaped him. “That pleases me greatly, little one.” He paused, and a more serious timbre seemed to fall upon us.
“The fates have chosen for you to complete a task before you shall return to prove to them that you will not forsake your path again. Know that I shall not be able to claim you from where you will be sent. Should you fail to understand the lesson, you will be trapped in limbo.”
“For how long?” I said, panic rising.
“Eternity.”
I went to protest, but he raised a hand, stopping me. “It sounds scary, I know. But they’ve shared with me your task, and I have little doubt you’ll return home soon. I wish you well, little one.”
“Father?” I asked, sensing Lady Time clawing at me.
“Yes?”
“How is she? Mrs. E?” I clarified.
A smile bloomed on his face, and happiness filled his voice as he said, “She is well. You did good by her getting her to safety when you did. I’m grateful to you for that.
I long for the day when we’ll be together again but pray it’s not a moment sooner than she chooses. That day will be both joyous and sad.”
I swallowed the emotion stuck in my throat. “Can you tell her I miss her? That I love her?”
“There’s no need. She knows both already and feels you in her heart, always.”
“Thank you,” I said, voice thick.
“Be well, little one. And may we not meet again.”
Before I could respond, everything around me began to shift, and a dome closed in around me.