Chapter 23 #2
Instantly, my eyes flew open. I didn’t remember standing, didn’t remember picking up my cloak and dashing for the hidden path to lead me back to the castle. I did remember the panic, so all-encompassing it felt like it might rip me in two.
I came back to myself when his hand caught my shoulder. “Rev—”
“No,” I snapped, well aware I looked wild-eyed, but incapable of calming myself.
“No! S?ren, I can’t kill you. I can’t. I’m supposed to hate you still.
I told you the other night that I don’t want to be anything but friends.
It—I—I lied, okay? In just a few days I’m going to be entirely alone except for you.
I can’t afford to lose that. I can’t afford to lose you! ”
I clapped my hand over my mouth, the realization of what I’d said filling me with dread. I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t care for him. But I can’t stop myself. S?ren’s eyes were wide, his mouth agape. Tears ran down my face, but I paid them no mind.
“I can’t,” I repeated again. Equal parts of mortification and dread and panic filled me, and this time, when I tore from his grasp and ran, he didn’t try to stop me.
I spent the rest of my day holed up in my father’s office, planning for the festival. Freja was thrilled to have my help, and Volkan didn’t turn it down either. He’d shown up late, a knowing smile on his face, and I knew S?ren must have said something to him.
When I finally retired to bed, I was utterly exhausted. I’d run the entire encounter over in my mind again and again, and it never ceased to be mortifying. I half expected S?ren to be sitting outside my bedroom door, but the hallway was empty. Perhaps he saw fit to give me my space.
Gods knew I needed it.
And when I wasn’t thinking about S?ren, I was mulling over Frode’s spirit. Stuck in the northern wastes, assuming S?ren’s assumption about spirits being unable to move on was accurate. Wondering what I would say to my brother, if I had the chance to see him again.
Surprisingly enough, the only emotion still embedded in my chest was pain.
The fury I’d felt toward S?ren for so long had faded when I wasn’t paying attention.
I hadn’t forgiven him, but I did understand his reasoning a little better.
And knowing the truth had taken the jagged edges of the gaping wound and sealed them slightly.
Still, my mind was a crowded place. The last thing I needed was another vivid dream—presumably from the Tapestry. But I didn’t exactly get a say in the matter.
I watched from a distance, thankfully, as a teenage Aloisa stood on the bank of the lake. She appeared the same age as when she’d first dived in. The scar over her eye was still puckered, like the ones on my face. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of months since my first vision of her.
She tapped her foot, looking out over the ice. The weather must have warmed, because the lake was no longer solid all the way through. The edges of the water were covered by only a thin layer of frost, and a bit lapped at the shore.
For several long minutes, she simply stood, deliberating. Then, much like I had mere days ago, she stripped off her top layers, left her boots in the snow, and then stepped out over the edge.
The ice shattered with a crack so sharp, I jumped. She waded out as far as she could, teeth chattering, and when it was finally deep enough, she submerged herself entirely and swam into the depths.
The scene didn’t change immediately. It became clear why mere seconds later, when Callum—panting, hands running through his hair with dismay—ran up to the water. He took one glance at Aloisa’s things sitting there and shouted, “No. No.”
Then he began stripping as well. Soon enough, he took his boots off and waded into the water, too.
I frowned. This was the same Callum who had tried to bring the godforsaken into submission, who had created the Holy Order of Priests I spent most of my life trying to thwart. But he was also…
Just a boy.
It unnerved me.
Before I had time to think too far on it, the world around me blurred and re-formed into the space of nothingness again. Aloisa stood before the Tapestry once more, and she looked even more furious than the first time around.
“What have you done to me?” she demanded. “I thought the price I’d have to pay was my own life in exchange for Callum’s. Not…whatever this is.” She threw her arms wide, and I frowned. Did she mean the threads she’d seen since bringing Callum back from the dead?
The Tapestry tilted its head, but she barged on before giving it a chance to reply.
“The ghosts are everywhere. They keep asking me to help them pass on. Every single one! How am I supposed to do that? Why me? There aren’t ancient spirits following me, so surely they were passing on their own just fine until you changed me. ”
There was a loud thud and Callum appeared, landing hard on the ground next to Aloisa like he’d fallen from the air. She gasped. “I told you not to follow me!”
He glared, brushing himself off as he stood. “And I told you not to come back here.”
“Children.” The Tapestry spoke in a voice so commanding they turned to listen immediately, both wide-eyed. “The world is changing. The Fjordlands are ready to receive magic, but they cannot do so unless there is a keeper to hold things in balance. And Aloisa…you volunteered to be that keeper.”
I leaned forward, listening intently. Perhaps this was the answer to what Aloisa’s responsibilities as a guardian had been—responsibilities that had apparently passed on to me and S?ren.
She blinked. “Me?”
“Yes. That is the cost you chose to pay when you asked to save your friend.” It gestured at Callum.
“Humanity is ready for more. With the addition of magic to your world comes more responsibility. A firmer framework, to prevent it all from running amok. This means someone must now aid spirits in passing on. The threads of the soul must be cut from your world and woven into the fabric of ours.” With a wave of its hand, the same weaving I’d seen appeared behind the Tapestry.
It stretched endlessly, the images on it moving and changing like the flow of water.
Everything clicked into place. The Tapestry was made up of souls of the dead. And it seemed capable of accessing a vivid array of memories from those who had already passed on and those who still lived.
“And you.” It turned to Callum, likely taking advantage of Aloisa’s momentary stunned silence. She didn’t seem the type to let the Tapestry get a word in edgewise. “There must be one to hold the balance of the magic as well. That responsibility now falls to you.”
“What—” Callum swallowed nervously. “What does that mean?”
“Aloisa’s gifts will allow her to pass on the souls now woven to your plane of existence,” it said. “Your gift will allow you to remove magic from those who misuse it. We have looked into your soul, Callum. It is pure and good. You are fit for this role.”
He bowed his head. “Thank you. I will do my best to be worthy of this responsibility.”
I furrowed my brow. Callum—the godforsaken’s biggest enemy—was chosen to be the first Silencer?
I shuddered at the idea of a man who could steal Lurae directly from the people who possessed them.
As a young girl, I remember wishing Callum had used his gifts for good, to level the playing field between the Lurae and Nilurae.
The hardest part of watching the past was knowing what history held in store.
Aloisa spoke again, her voice quiet and timid now. “How do I help them pass on?”
The Tapestry sounded like it might be smiling, if it had a face to do such things with.
“You will learn how to summon us and we will teach you how. Do not worry—when you emerge from the ice, you both will find yourselves changed. Time matters not to your mortality anymore. You cannot be killed, and you will never die.”
The two teenagers looked at each other. Maybe the Tapestry missed it, but it was plain enough for me to see the weight of this new information on their shoulders.
Aloisa and Callum had become immortal.