Then
I’m fourteen years old, standing on the edge of the Crater, a body wrapped in white beside me—
No. Not fourteen. I am … I—
Nine. I’m nine, and the Crater is a bottomless mouth in front of me. There are tear tracks on my face and the weight of little Kelda on my hip. I watch a young Atlas say the funeral rites over Papa’s body while Mama—
Wait. Mama isn’t at the Crater. Mama is in the streets. Her hair wild, her eyes gone white, wandering and humming. And I’m running. I’m fourteen, and I’m running after her, calling for her, hoping that the preachers—
The preachers. They charge too much cash to perform funerals. They charge extra to come to places like the Shipyards. More than we have. Atlas does it instead. I’m nine years old and still a believer. I’m nine years old, praying for Papa’s spirit to be delivered to the Heralds—
The Heralds make people prophets. They made Mama a prophet and it’s such a blessing.
The wardens in the streets find her before I can get to her.
I’m only fourteen, I’m not fast enough, and they grab her with meaty hands, taking her away.
Halle runs for Mama, but I catch her in my arms, holding her back; it’s no use now, it’s over—
It’s over. The rites are done. Mama kneels next to Papa’s body. She cries as she pushes it over the edge of the Crater, delivering it to the Depths. One moment Papa is taking up space and breath and life. And the next, he’s just gone—
Mama’s gone. Nothing but an empty spot in the street where she once was. Nothing but an empty hole in three young chests that she always filled. It’s bottomless and infinite, a dull, broken edge digging slowly, ever so slowly into your skin, working its agonizing way to your bones.
I am nine, standing at the Crater, and Halle cries into my shirt. It isn’t fair, it isn’t fair, it isn’t fair …
I am fourteen, standing in the streets, and Kelda leans against my shoulder, shaking. Who’s gonna take care of us now?
I am nine and I am fourteen, swallowing my own sobs, my own tears, pressing it all down until it crystallizes and hardens.
You still have me, I say. And I’m not going anywhere.