11. Kye
Kye
The Mountain of Truth was simple enough to find. Everything in Perpetuum was flatter than a fucking board, except the silver peak in the distance.
Cebrinne fell into step behind us, back straight and mouth hard, not a word to be found.
I couldn’t decide if she remained mute out of pride or shame.
Maren walked as though her mother didn’t exist, and I denied the impulse to let my curious gaze wander back to her.
I knew who she was. Had heard Selena’s explanation through our bond before it had been severed.
I wasn’t one to let awkward silences unnerve me.
I’d had enough of them growing up. Fights between my parents had been nothing short of explosive, punctuated with long periods of cold shoulders and furious glares.
My father making a spectacle of women on his arm in front of my mother.
My mother cleaning her nails as though she didn’t see them, as though the pageantry of betrayal was the dullest thing in the room.
This wasn’t some taciturn contest to determine who held the power by caring less.
Flames roared in Maren’s eyes as she stared ahead, determined to look anywhere but into Cebrinne’s face. Cebrinne did the opposite, covertly studying the back of Maren’s head, darting her gaze away when she realized I’d caught her.
We waded through throngs of souls wandering the sand.
Most of them didn’t notice us. They drifted without purpose, serenity painted in the corners of their eyes and mouths.
An eternity of nothing to do but stroll the perpetual sand.
Some of them did watch us pass. Newer souls, I assumed.
Ones not yet accustomed to the thought of time without end.
They lifted their heads, no doubt finding us peculiar.
The only three souls in all of Perpetuum who moved with a target in sight.
“Maren.”
Our Triad was almost to the edge of the roaming souls when we heard her name, called out from somewhere behind us.
It was a young man, barely withdrawn from the age of boyhood. One I’d never seen before, which was odd, because this man wasn’t Leihaniian. His hair was long, tied back in a braid that was half loose, his green eyes a quiet distinction from the haggard belts and buckles along his waist.
“Irah,” Maren breathed. Something swirled in her eyes. A question she’d just remembered, one more burdensome than simple curiosity. But something akin to relief as well.
“I thought that was you.” Irah glanced at the peak in the distance. “You’re heading to the mountain? She’s sending you back?”
“We’ll see,” Maren said. The softness in her voice made me shift the weight between my feet, and I forced myself to not cross my arms as I watched them.
He lifted his hand to the back of his neck, massaging the ridge between his shoulders shyly.
“If you do go back.” He flicked his eyes to me for only a moment, then settled back on her.
“If you return to Leihani… There’s a cave that delves into the mountain.
You can only reach it by sea. When the tide is low. ”
Maren’s mouth parted, an understanding passing between them. “I’m familiar with the place. A cluster of caves on the northern side of the island. The water is dangerous there.” The silver shine of her skin that all Naiads seemed to possess in Perpetuum shimmered. “You want me to find it.”
“If you want to,” he said quietly. “He didn’t do it. Not to me. But for many others, he did.”
The confusion across Maren’s features returned. “He?”
Irah nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. “The cave with the dangling ferns. I wanted you to know what happened. I know you looked for me afterward.”
Then he turned, gliding back through the souls we’d left behind. Maren watched him go, thoughts swirling behind her eyes.
I cleared my throat. “What was that?” I finally asked, managing to keep my voice neutral.
Maren shook her head, returning to face the mountain again. “Just a cabin boy I knew once.” Then she continued walking.
The souls of Perpetuum thinned as the Mountain of Truth neared.
Not really a mountain, more of a pompous fucking sand dune, the wind rippling the grain into long, silver lines like ruffles on a skirt.
Something metallic hung in the air, itching the back of my throat.
Not the burning embers that had surrounded Theia’s Moonstone Palace.
This scent was sharp yet dusty. Precious metals pulled from veins of a dark cave.
Small plumes of iridescent powder erupted where my feet sifted through the grain, as though the sand hadn’t been interrupted in ages.
Ahead, Maren’s gasp of surprise snapped my attention forward. I pulled her into me, surveying the thing that had startled her.
A body lay at our feet.
I couldn’t decide if it was male or female.
It didn’t have hair, nor did it wear clothes, though it wasn't quite naked. The shape of it almost changed as we stared, its ribs protruding then and then shrinking the way Hadrian’s did when he fought for breath.
With every rise and fall of its frame, dust sparkled from its form.
Cebrinne stepped along my side. “We’ve crossed into the Evercrumbling.
Perpetuum will house a soul as long as it needs to remember,” she said, her voice almost crackling as she stared down at the creature, as if she’d forgotten how to use it.
“But once a soul is ready to forget, it makes its way here. Gives itself to the sand.”
Maren didn’t answer her. Her jaw clicked smoothly as she straightened, eyes still on the slowly crumbling body. Then she padded around it, taking the lead once again.
Cebrinne’s gaze flicked up to mine. “Some souls are desperate to forget,” she murmured, teal eyes brighter than everything else in sight. Starkly different than her daughter, though there was something in them familiar enough to tug at my chest.
I chewed the inside of my cheek, wondering what to respond to that. Nothing seemed right. Maren had left both of us to march ahead, island nose high in the air.
I tilted my head toward the quickly approaching silver molehill. “Come on.”
We might have walked for days. It might have been minutes.
Perpetuum had a way of stretching and shortening time in measurements that almost looped back rather than veering forward.
There was no sun to rise and fall, no urgency for sleep, no hunger or thirst. Instead of offering a beginning and end, the circadian song in my bones seemed to repeat its verses in an endless cycle.
So there was no way to know, when we reached the base of the mountain—if mountains were fucking dirt piles—how long we’d hiked or how far we’d traveled.
All I knew was it was quiet here. Perpetuum was tranquil, but the air here was more than soundless. It was fucking still. As though it demanded to remain undisturbed. Even the wind had ceased movement.
Maren pressed her foot into the incline, and the sand that tumbled down under her weight felt wrong.
Too slow and yet too fast. Too solid and yet, almost liquid.
Watching, we each cringed. She hesitated before repeating the motion with her opposite foot.
I gritted my teeth, preparing to follow her steps.
Cebrinne found her footing on my other side, recoiling as her toes disrupted ancient sand patterns.
Suns alive, each step into the mountain turned my stomach.
I’d rather stab my fucking eyes out. Rather overindulge in Leal’s toxic homemade whiskey, then waste my day vomiting my regrets. Rather spend a fortnight in a ship’s cabin twice as miserable as the one below Darkness’s Hourglass.
Anything but the slow, dead-silent violation of the sand below my boots.
Ahead, Maren froze, raising her ear in the air. It was quiet; I’m not sure what she possibly could have heard. Our hearts didn’t beat and our lungs didn’t breathe. The sand masked each footfall, muffling it into nothing.
But even from here, the fine hair along her arm visibly lifted. And her body halted into rigid stone, waiting for an attack.
What is it? I asked, unwilling to break the air by speaking the words aloud.
Her forehead creased. She hesitated. Then whispered back, Voices.
My brows flickered in question, fingers wrapping around the soul-tied ring on my hand as I listened for whatever might have entered her mind. But she shook the hair away from her temples, picking her feet up to continue.
I followed, pushing through the stretch of deadened leg muscle, ignoring the wince that shuddered through my mind as sand rolled under my weight.
Worthless.
The word vibrated within my thoughts, soft as a breath against my cheek. Not in Maren’s voice. My own.
I paused, straining to ensure I’d heard it right.
Nothing.
She glanced over her shoulder at me, dark eyes wide and alert. Climbing to my height, Cebrinne flinched in pain, halting in her tracks. Maren’s gaze shifted to her mother for a moment before swerving back to me.
Ignore it, she instructed softly.
I took another step.
Failure. Coward. Traitor.
Each word burned a little louder, fizzling against my senses. Branding itself into my mind.
Worthless. Wretched. Spineless.
My feet grew heavy with exertion. Either that, or the fucking sand was thicker. Or I was sinking in deeper with each step. Those first few strides, my feet had only driven an inch or two into the silver grain. Now, I realized, I was down to my fucking ankles.
Weak. Weak. Weak.
Ahead, Maren’s hands shook. She pushed on, the mountain drinking her next step up to her calf. Her voice rang out in a sharp cry, and she stumbled back, yanking her foot out and desperately dusting the sand away as though it had scalded her.
Miserable fool. You can’t do anything right, can you? Helpless, powerless. Pathetic. Couldn’t save your mother. Can’t save your brother. Left the woman you already loved on that island to be imprisoned. Mocked her while she sat in a cage.
I forced myself forward, my heel carving deep into the sand Maren had stepped through the moment before.