Chapter 10 The Girl
The Girl
Time passed strangely for the girl as she laid buried beneath countless furs that reeked of piss, sweat, and feces. Though the girl couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to pee or shit—was it days? A week? More?
It wouldn’t be long now before she was reunited completely, body and soul, with Solace. Her being would return to the ether where it was born, and her collective consciousness would join with Solace and the Keepers that perished so long ago.
“Not long now, my daughter.” The voice was sweet and cajoling, taking on the tone of her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother all at once. “You’ve been so brave. It’s time to let go soon, sweetheart.”
If the girl had any water left in her body, tears would have formed in her eyes.
She didn’t want to leave. Not yet.
Not when those who destroyed her village and people sixteen years ago still lived.
Not when Solace had finally returned to Elyria.
A keening sound erupted from the girl, but no one responded.
No one was there to comfort her, to assuage her fears.
To assure her that what she did was right.
The girl faded from consciousness again, and she was certain that this time she wouldn’t resurface. That she would join her ancestors in Solace.
And when the girl opened her eyes to a dark nothingness, the rotting stench of decay and death absent, she was sure that was the case.
But the voice that rang through the space surprised her.
“Matamuri,” the voice sang. “At last, we meet.”
It was strange for the girl to hear her name after so long. Ever since the destruction of her people, she was known as the Last Keeper. Or the Matriarch. Even Cael—the only man to ever use her body for pleasure—called her Matriarch.
She’d almost forgotten her name.
“Matamuri.” She rolled it around her tongue, surprised she could speak without the recent, ever-present rasp in her voice.
On closer inspection, the girl realized there was no pain here. Her head wasn’t exploding from the constant messages and memories gifted from Solace. Her body wasn’t frail and weak.
She felt whole.
The girl nodded her head once.
“Yes, that’s my name.”
She felt rather than heard the disembodied voice smile.
“You’re a hard one to track, Matamuri. Solace has kept you hidden, inaccessible for years. But I finally found you.” There was a definitive undertone of glee as they spoke, and Matamuri found herself intrigued by the statement.
“Hidden?” she finally asked.
“Yes. My daughter put a lock on your mind. Clearly, she was fearful of what I would do if I were ever able to speak to you.”
Daughter?
“Are you . . . Fate?” Matamuri whispered, and the voice laughed, a deep, rich sound that reverberated through the endless black space.
“Indeed.”
“Why can you access my mind now?”
“Because you’re dying, Matamuri. Even now, as we speak, your organs are shutting down. You have mere moments before your soul is joined with Solace for eternity.”
Matamuri knew she was dying, but hearing someone else confirm it, and so flippantly, had her stomach tying in knots.
“Will it hurt?” she whispered, suddenly terrified of what was to come.
“No, child. It’s like falling asleep,” Fate said. Then, after a pause, “I can ease you from here into Solace, when the time comes?”
The thought of never having to return to the hut that stank of death and rot had the girl instantly nodding her head in agreement.
“Yes,” she whispered, “please.”
“Then I ask one thing in return,” Fate said. “A bargain, if you will.”
Matamuri nodded her head again.
“Very good,” Fate purred, and the sense of victory washed over the girl.
What have I agreed to?
But she found that she didn’t care. She was dying. Soon, if Fate was telling the truth. And she had sacrificed everything in the name of Solace and justice. Everything. She would do this one thing for Fate if it meant she could have a small comfort at the end of her incredibly short life.
“I have one last vision for you, and I need you to send it to the very last Keeper in existence. His name is Jarius, and he is currently under the care of the last Truthsayer.”
The girl nearly hissed at the mention of the man who destroyed her entire family.
“It is imperative he receives this message,” Fate urged. “The future of Elyria hangs in the balance.”
Matamuri paused, mulling over the words.
“No,” she finally said. She would take the pain of death, the stench of rot and decay. But she would not betray her people by aiding the Warlord.
“I’m afraid, my dear, you don’t have a choice. You agreed to my bargain, after all,” Fate said with finality.
The girl blanched and tried to remove her mind from this place, but she found that her soul was trapped here with Fate.
“You tricked me,” she whispered.
“And how many times have you done the same? To your own people, no less.” There was a hint of derision and disgust in Fate’s words.
Matamuri blanched, but Fate was right. She had tricked her own people, fed them false visions, denied their final rites of passage into Solace.
The girl hung her head in shame.
“Gather them. Protect them. Let them help you.” Her great-grandmother’s words rang through her mind.
She’d failed her family. Completely disregarded her great-grandmother’s last wishes in favor of her own revenge.
Matamuri didn’t deserve to be reunited with them. She didn’t deserve these last moments of peace.
But, maybe, this could atone for some of her sins.
“Do it,” she finally said.
Without a word, Fate’s vision slammed into her consciousness.
This felt so different than the visions she’d received from Solace, and the realization made her unbearably sad.
The future Fate thrust into her mind was shockingly clear, like the water that flowed from the springs in the north.
There was an element of peace to it, and Matamuri found herself sighing as it washed over her.
This was what a vision was supposed to feel like.
It was evident the futures Solace sent her were tainted—dirty—altered to fit the goddess’s plans.
How many fake visions have I given my people? What have I done?
The thoughts flayed the girl, opened her heart to the monstrosities she’d committed.
But it was too late now to fix what she’d done, what she’d started.
If she’d died sooner, if she’d passed with her people all those years ago, Solace would still be imprisoned, Elyria wouldn’t be on the brink of a second Sundering, the gods wouldn’t win.
It was never Solace’s intention to rain justice on the heads of those responsible for the killing of her people; in fact, it felt like the goddess even orchestrated it, pushed visions into the minds of Keepers who had the ears of powerful lords.
She only hoped that Jarius could alter the course of the future enough to thwart the goddesses and her plans.
He’s in the possession of the last Truthsayer; that has to mean something.
The girl gasped as she pushed the vision into the mind of Jarius. There was a tentative connection there, Jarius holding onto life by only a thread, though the thread was thicker than her own.
“Thank you, Matriarch,” his voice whipped through her mind, barely above a whisper, “rest with our ancestors. I will see you. I will remember you. Go, be at peace.”
Matamuri broke the connection with Jarius, her mind spent and exhausted.
“Thank you, Matamuri,” Fate murmured. “Go, now. Join your family. They’re waiting for you.”
Slowly, a prick of light expanded until it encompassed the dark completely. The girl heard the voices of her people calling her, the warmth of her mother’s arms surrounding her, the love of her great-grandmother inside her.
And so, she went.