Chapter 33 The Birds Are Falling
The Birds Are Falling
The evening came quietly. A steward guided us to where we would bathe, a domed chamber of moss-veiled marble tucked within a grove of bending, willow-like trees. The air misted faintly around it, giving it an eerie glow.
Inside was a bath unlike anything I’d ever seen.
It stretched long and narrow, like a river carved into stone, surrounded by soft, golden lanterns.
I would have called it romantic if not for the circumstances.
The water glowed faintly, the surface so smooth, it looked like glass.
A slight breeze drifted through carved, arching windows, carrying the scent of thyme and something sweeter underneath. Jasmine, maybe.
We were told the trial would begin once we entered. That we would not drown, even if it felt like we might. That the bath would show us what we needed to see.
I glanced at Tarran as we stood at the edge. She’d been reserved since dinner. Her face had taken on that tight, guarded stillness again, the kind she wore when her mind went somewhere I couldn’t follow.
“You sure you want to do this with me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She gave a small nod. “With you? Always.”
We stepped in together. We weren’t completely naked—they had given us plain silver swimsuits that hugged us tightly but still retained as much modesty as possible.
The warmth of the water caught me off guard.
It wasn’t hot, not like a true bath, but it wasn’t cold either.
It was comforting, settling around me like a hug.
The water reached just above our waists as we moved further in, and once we’d reached the middle, it stilled.
All the floating lights dimmed, and something shifted.
Suddenly, the water wasn’t water anymore. It was…feelings. Thoughts. Memories.
I saw flashes behind my eyes, reflected off the water’s surface.
My father’s face, stern and shadowed. The moment I’d first opened the book.
Serena’s laughter echoing one of the many nights we’d stayed up far too late.
And then, quieter things. The decisions I never made.
The potential futures I could have had but never chose.
My limbs felt heavy, like every choice I hadn’t made was growing roots inside me.
I closed my eyes and breathed slowly, forcing calm to permeate, to settle in my soul. I let the ache of my memories, my burdens, move through me, and then, just as I felt something loosen in my chest, I turned toward Tarran.
And froze.
She was standing stiff in the water, shoulders tense. Her eyes were wide but blank, and her mouth moved, though no sound came at first.
“Tarran?”
No answer.
Then, soft and strange, she whispered, “The birds are falling again.”
My heart lurched. This was the same type of talk from the Kingdom of Mayhem.
Her head turned toward me, slow and deliberate, but her eyes didn’t meet mine. They looked past me, like I wasn’t even there.
“They put cages in the sky,” she muttered, “and called them stars. But we burned them, didn’t we? We chose them and the silver mouths. We all burned.”
“Tarran, hey. Look at me.”
She blinked. For a moment, her expression twisted. Not in fear, but recognition.
“They crowned me with feathers,” she said. “They said I was lucky to fly. Convinced me. But I fell, Liss. I fell so fucking hard, and now, it’s eating me from the inside out.”
Water rippled violently around her, though neither of us had moved.
“I didn’t want it,” she growled. “I thought I did, but I didn’t. And I bled for it.”
She dropped beneath the surface without warning, like something had grabbed hold of her and pulled her under.
“Tarran!”
I dove after her, panic overtaking instinct. The water was suddenly deeper, too dark, too vast. I couldn’t see or feel her, only the cold rush of cooler water moving past me, empty and endless. I threw my hands out, frantically searching until I felt her.
Her fingers found mine beneath the surface. I grabbed tight and pulled, unwilling to let her drown or be taken or whatever the hell it was that was happening to her.
She broke through the water, gasping, blinking fast. Her chest rose and fell, rapid and uneven, and whatever madness had gripped her was gone, like a storm that had died out too quickly, leaving everything behind it soaked.
I—I’m fine,” she stuttered, her voice hoarse. “Sorry. I don’t…I don’t know what came over me.”
But her hands trembled, and her eyes wouldn’t meet mine again.
The bath went still. The lights slowly brightened, the water cooling around us. Whatever it had wanted from us, it got it, seemingly much more from Tarran than from me.
“It is time,” the attendant said, returning almost as silently as she had appeared.
We climbed out in silence. The attendant was waiting, handing us warmed crimson robes before leading us back down the corridor toward a firelit room where we could rest.
“We’ll be back for you shortly,” she said in a soft voice, but I could barely hear her over the apprehensive thundering of my own heart.