Epilogue
There was a new board at the center of the town which was previously known as Wilted Hamlet. The board said, Blooming Hamlet.
Lesya, despite the state of mind she was in, still marveled at the tall statue of Aeterna. The temple had finally been unearthed, the statue restored, and the town returned to its old splendor. For the first time, she saw with her own eyes what Mortandagh had been achieving all across Aladria.
And yet, the town was completely empty. A war was being waged somewhere else in the country. Who had lost and who had won, Lesya could not care less. The person she had set out to kill was dead, and, unfortunately, so was Mortandagh.
Truly, there were no victors in war.
She did not know what tomorrow held. She knew only of the key in her hand, and of Mortandagh's promise that Cassian was here.
There was greenery and daylight in Blooming Hamlet. The market was stocked with fruit and vegetables, and yet it was empty. The buildings had been rebuilt, repainted, made colorful and vibrant, and yet there was not a soul to be seen. Even the prison stood as it had before.
Not a single soul moved in this place other than herself. Everyone had gone to heed Mortandagh’s call for war.
As Lesya moved through the town, she could smell blood and sulfur coming from within the prison next to the town hall. She wondered what it was, but did not stop to inspect it further.
She made her way toward the town hall, her feet shaking beneath her, her legs weak.
Was it true? Was Cassian really here? Or had Mortandagh made one last false promise?
She stepped through the town hall doors and found that the library, which had once been neglected, was now filled with books.
Lesya smiled. She took the books she had stolen from Eldric’s library out of her bag and placed them in an empty space on the shelf.
“There. History restored,” she said. Her voice was heavy, her eyes bleary.
Then she turned and walked down the staircase into the basement. There, beneath the town hall, she found another chamber. Colder than the one above. Freezing air poured from somewhere ahead. It struck her as almost awe-inspiring that Mortandagh’s magic was still holding even after his death.
There was silence in her mind. Silence in her heart. No signs of Aeterna.
She walked down the hallway toward the door at its end. Cold mist seeped from beneath it, tendrils of white curling across the floor like the veil of a new bride, or a young lover who had only just discovered what it meant to be in love.
Before the door, she stopped.
A windowpane caught her reflection. Lesya looked at herself and blushed like a lover in the throes of new love, or a newlywed bride. She was going to meet Cassian again. She needed to look pretty for him.
She adjusted her hair and wiped off dirt from her face.
She adjusted her clothes as she stepped toward the door, and when she reached it, she paused.
Here was the unsaid thing hanging suspended in the quiet air; she had relinquished her right as Death Shepherd.
Was she going to need Aeterna in that room?
And what if the Death Mother did not answer?
But this did not overshadow her mind. She just wanted to see Cassian.
She put the key in the lock and turned.
The door clicked open, and she stepped into the freezing cold chamber where, at the center, upon a slab of ice, lay a blue-skinned man.
His skin had frost upon it. His eyes were closed.
His hair was immaculate, and he was still wearing the clothes that he had been wearing when he died.
He lay there, his arms crossed, his channeling device resting on his chest.
Lesya couldn’t control the tears that flowed from her eyes.
She walked up to Cassian and put her hand on his chest. She closed her eyes and reached for the Death Mother, but got only silence in return.
“Aeterna, if you are here, I need this. You have witnessed the tragedies that have befallen me, and if you do not grant me this, then you are a cruel goddess, thoughtless.”
Yet she got nothing in return, and her heart sank. Her mind raced across each page of the books that she had read last week, across every lesson that she had learned, including alchemical sympathy, including the very lesson that Aeterna had taught her when she had revived Freya.
“I don’t need any gods to help me do this,” she said, and closed her eyes.
She focused, and began jump-starting Cassian’s body with her own magic. She restarted his heart, and made blood circulate in his veins. She sent signals and pulses through his brain. She warmed him with one hand, and with the other she reached out.
Now she could see two distinct sources. One was very bright, and she recognized it as Chaos, and the other was a black void. Aeterna. They were circling each other in a swirl. Looked like they were finally having that conversation after all.
But Lesya did not concern herself with this affair of gods. She needed to find Cassian’s soul.
She made his lungs breathe manually, and with her hand she plunged into the realm of souls, trying to remember her lesson.
Her hand stayed there for the longest time, stray souls coming and touching it, all of them alien until, after a long time, she found a familiar energy hovering near her fingertips, and she latched onto it.
She pulled it from the void and brought it back.
She put her hand on Cassian's chest, guiding his soul back to him.
She had done so entirely without the intervention of Aeterna, and wondered, what did that make her?
She waited with bated breath as Cassian's body stayed still for the longest time.
His body did not move. And yet, she had to keep it functioning manually.
She emulated the movement of his lungs and regulated the flow of his blood.
She kept sending electrical signals into his brain, waiting, waiting, waiting.
Finally, when it was clear that she had failed, her hands fell off Cassian’s body, and she sank against the slab of ice, realizing what she had lost when she had relinquished her right as Death Shepherd.
A hand rested upon her shoulder, and a familiar voice called out to her.
“Lesya?”