Chapter 39 #2
“And now, instead of passing on, your spirit is stuck here. Tied to the place you died, unable to move on,” she explained. “I am here to fix that. To offer you peace.”
“How?” The boy’s voice grew quieter. “I just want to go home.”
“Look.” She waved a hand, and before them, a golden archway woven from threads appeared.
It stretched up, brushing along the branches of the pines with no regard for them.
The trees didn’t even move, undamaged in the slightest. The threads formed incredible detail, and I leaned forward to study it.
The filigree felt similar to the Kryllian palace’s architecture, swirls adorned with shimmering light.
As it finished, sides touching the snow, Aloisa waved another hand.
The boy’s soul thread disconnected from the space around his body, floating in the air to flow into the archway.
The boy and I watched with fascination. Aloisa’s face, however, broke into a gentle smile. She turned back to him. “This doorway will take you where you need to go. And when you arrive, your soul will be set free.”
He fidgeted, trying to twist immaterial fingers around the soul thread. They wouldn’t connect, his nervous habit useless in his current form. “Should I be afraid?”
Her gaze softened. “No. You were a soldier. You know what it means to be an essential part of something bigger than yourself, something that offers you purpose. Think of this path as the journey to your next adventure.”
The boy steeled himself. And then he ran into the archway, a relieved smile on his face. The moment he breached it, golden light flashed. And when I blinked, clearing my eyes of spots, it had all vanished.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I spoke aloud, addressing the Tapestry. “Aloisa helped that boy pass on. How?”
The image froze, the memory standing still.
Flakes of snow hung suspended in the air, and Aloisa did not move anymore.
The Tapestry’s humanoid form appeared next to me.
“Using her Lurae, she constructed the archway. We guided her as she built it, using the soul threads she was able to cut and manipulate.”
“Are you…also the archway, then?”
The Tapestry nodded. “Yes. We are all who have come before. We reach from this world to yours and gather the souls that are ready to move on.”
“Revna and I theorized that Aloisa’s death made it impossible for the waiting dead to pass through the archway,” I said slowly.
“Correct,” the Tapestry confirmed. “It is now your responsibility to pass them on. But you already know this.”
“Then…how?” I ran a hand through my hair.
I could have sworn the edges of the Tapestry’s face moved up, like it was smiling.
“And that is why we have brought you here. Because you need to understand why you’ve been gifted these abilities.
Because before you can continue, you must be changed.
Made immortal. The archway is gone, unraveled, because Aloisa’s soul was the final thread holding it together.
You and the Bloodsinger Queen must create a new path for your reign. ”
“Why do you even need us?” I demanded. Everything the Tapestry proposed sounded much like putting on another leash, only with a holder who professed to be benevolent. I knew as well as anyone how long that arrangement was likely to last. “Why can’t you just…do it all yourself?”
The Tapestry shrugged. “Even we are limited, Hellbringer. This is how the Fjordlands were created, and it is how they will continue until this world is no more. Humanity was gifted magic when they were ready for more. But this magic is not the end of the progression. One day, when the Fjordlands are ready, there will be even more offered to its people.”
I had endless questions. But the one that escaped was, “Just the Fjordlands?”
I heard the Tapestry’s smirk. “The world is a complicated place. Don’t ask questions you don’t have the capacity to know the answers to.”
“None of this matters to me,” I argued. “There are people back in my world who are waiting for me. Depending on me. If it was so important to you that Revna and I do this together, then send me back to her.”
“You have only Aloisa to thank for your Lurae being split between life and death,” the Tapestry said, suddenly serious.
I shook my head. Time passed differently here, but I didn’t know exactly how to gauge how long it had been since I died in Revna’s arms. Clearly the Tapestry intended to send me back, but how much time would be wasted hammering out the details of how to use our Lurae to form an archway? “Once again, I don’t understand.”
The scenery vanished in the blink of an eye.
Now we stood in the grove of trees—so much of the wastes looked the same, but I recognized the warped stump of a petrified tree standing out among the snowdrifts.
This was the same place where I’d seen Arraya kill Aloisa in a dream.
Stars winked down at us. A fire blazed in front of the goddess. The Soulcleaver rested over her thighs.
And the Tapestry stood across from her, hands behind its back, observing.
“I’m done,” Aloisa said quietly. “I have served for three hundred and fifty years, doing my duty to the souls of this world. But I am finished. I am lonely. The Soulcleaver can kill me, and if you do not allow me rest yourself, I will use it.” She moved one hand in the direction of the Soulcleaver.
The Tapestry seemed almost hesitant when it replied, “We do not understand.”
Aloisa’s answering laugh was harsh. “I suppose you wouldn’t. Today is the anniversary of my husband’s death, you know. Two hundred and eighty-six years ago, he passed away of old age. He lived a lovely, long life. And I am ready to join him.”
The humanoid figure across from me tilted its head. “And you would…have us pass your duties on to another?”
She sighed. “I am ready to depart, but I hate that you will force me to put this duty on another’s shoulders. The same way you forced it upon me.”
The Tapestry spoke gently. “Aloisa, you chose this.”
“Without full knowledge of what I was agreeing to.” She turned accusing eyes to the Tapestry. “You asked a child if she was ready to bear the weight of all humanity. Have you ever considered how unfair that was?”
“Yes.”
“And yet you did nothing to change it, and have made no apology to me despite having hundreds of years in which to do so.” Aloisa stood, her mouth set in a firm line. “I am here to resign. I have no interest in being the Weaver any longer.”
“Then someone must be chosen to succeed you,” the Tapestry said simply. “Otherwise, no souls will be able to pass on. You would sentence them all to eternity of hopeless, lonely wandering.”
“Sounds familiar,” she snapped. “You sentenced me to such a fate long ago. I’ve stared into the reflection of this blade time and time again since my husband passed. Wishing for the peace of death. I stopped Callum, sent souls on…I’ve done everything you asked.”
“And Arraya?” it ventured. “She still lives. Still plots to resurrect her husband, something that will only be possible through your death.”
“Let her.” Aloisa’s exhaustion was the honed edge of a blade, sharp and demanding. “You have asked endless impossible things of me. But I hunted her for years, outwitted by her at every turn. And I have finally decided to tell you the truth: I will not kill my sister.”
The Tapestry’s voice held no emotion when it asked, “Despite all she has done? Despite the harm she continues to cause? You will not end her?”
“No.” She shook her head. “You are all of humanity. All who have come before. If there is anything you understand, surely it is the impossible way emotions cloud our judgment. The way some bonds remain unbroken, despite atrocities.”
The Soulcleaver glowed in the firelight. The Tapestry was utterly, inhumanly still, threads ceasing motion. Aloisa pointed the blade at her heart. “If you do not choose another, then I will use it on myself.”
“No!” The Tapestry lurched through the fire, so quick my eyes barely followed the motion. Its hands grasped Aloisa’s, golden glow atop pale skin.
“I want to rest.” Her breathing came quickly. “To sleep. So take my powers and give them to another.”
It hesitated. “And this…will make you happy?”
“It will bring me peace.” Her lip trembled.
My eyes burned watching the scene unfold.
Even the cadence of her voice was reminiscent of Revna’s.
I wondered whether she had seen her sons age, witnessed the end of her grandchildren’s lives.
Was her red hair a mark that would have survived twelve generations, to Revna’s brothers?
Were they related, connected by blood and purpose?
“I have only one request,” she whispered. “If you are willing to grant it, then I will remain alive until the new Weaver is of age, fully ready to step into their position.”
The wave of emotion crashing over me from the Tapestry was wild and chaotic. It radiated, vivid beyond belief. It was grief and longing and sorrow and confusion. The otherworldly being, despite being the culmination of human consciousness, could not comprehend this outcome. “Name your price.”
“You will not burden one person with this duty,” she said. “Instead, you must split it in two—the Lurae of life and the Lurae of death, separate abilities. And you must choose two Weavers who, according to the infinite futures you see, would fall in love.”
If I had a heartbeat, it would have stopped.
“We…do not understand,” the Tapestry said slowly.
“I will not allow another to suffer in solitude.” She shook her head.
“You are everything and everyone and all that will be. But I am just a woman. And I have lived nearly two hundred years alone in these wastes, after I hunted down my only remaining family member, trying to convince myself I was capable of killing her. I am tired of killing. Tired of violence. Tired of being alone.”