Chapter 25 #3
“Eurus’ mortal.” The Fate’s weapon slithers through the grass at her feet like a dutiful companion. She halts, looming over me with a sharp-toothed grin. “We meet again.”
I thought Arin had taken care of the final Fate, but I was wrong. One of her wings hangs lopsided from her back—broken. That must explain why she travels on foot.
I glance around, but she is alone. The last of Eurus’ competitors, if I am not mistaken, now that Arin is dead.
I open my mouth, but the goddess snaps her wrist, and the whip coils around my neck, the cool leather an unexpected bite against my skin. “Uh-uh.” A firm tug cuts off my air supply. “Not a sound. Understand?”
The pressure migrates to my eyes. It is too much. I nod desperately, relieved when the whip loosens long enough to allow me to draw breath.
“Here is what we’re going to do,” says the Fate.
“Eurus is all that stands between me and victory, and I intend to walk through that door. You’re going to call for him.
You will mention nothing of my presence.
” Her eyes sit like holes in her face, full of untold horrors.
“If you cooperate, I promise not to kill you. Once Eurus is dead and the door appears, you are free to walk through it. Agreed?”
I cannot deny my heart. It yearns for the East Wind in all ways, but… I want to live. Is that so bad a thing?
Mutely, I nod. The whip uncoils from my throat.
“Eurus!” It takes every effort to lace my tone with enthusiasm. “Eurus, this way!” My cry ripples out, a joyous declaration.
“Bird?”
“Over here!” My voice cracks.
The Fate cants her head. Clouds drift across her eyes, which blur in confusion. Suddenly, she bolts in the opposite direction. I watch her departure with unease. Something has changed.
“Bird!” Eurus calls.
“I’m here!” I scream. Pushing to my feet, I sway, catching myself against a tree.
Then it comes, a bottomless echo, straight from the belly of the beast.
My pulse crests, for it is a sound most familiar, and it soaks St. Laurent in its ominous roar daily: the surge of a great, powerful wave.
My head snaps in the direction of the low rumble. Birds scatter with shrieks of warning, and the earth trembles underfoot.
The East Wind appears, stumbling through the thicket, eyes ringed white with fear. “Min, climb!”
He catches me around the waist, shoving me up the tree, one hand planted on my backside. It jolts me into motion. My fingers latch around the lowest branch. From there, I scramble up, reaching for the next handhold as a deafening eruption engulfs us.
Curling my fingers around the bark, I glance down. Eurus leans against the trunk, noticeably frail.
“Keep going,” he barks. “Don’t worry about me.”
I haul myself higher into the tree, then higher still. Don’t look down. If there is one rule of survival, let it be that. Despite his waning strength, Eurus manages to pull himself amongst the boughs.
The ground rocks, and I clutch the trunk with bitten fingertips, whimpering.
From this vantage point, I see the whole of the surrounding wood, its leafy crown grazed by a gentle wind.
But amidst the tranquility, something stirs.
There, in the distance, a great wave breaches the horizon, barreling forward in a gnashing of white foam.
Up to the next branch, a thick creaking of wood. As I scramble higher, my foot slips, the skin of my palms stinging as I clutch the bough above me until I regain my footing.
When I look back down, however, the East Wind remains slumped on the lowest branch, face gray with exhaustion. “Eurus!”
“I’ll be all right, bird.” He gulps for air, his back pressed against the trunk. Sweat slides down his face.
He’s too weak, I realize. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the tree begin to give way. “I’ll come help.”
“No!” As he inhales shakily, his dulled eyes meet mine. “Keep climbing.”
And leave him to drown?
There is no victory without the East Wind, no triumph unless it is he and I, together. The flood nears, yet I will face it, as I have faced each obstacle that came before.
Carefully, I descend to the branch above Eurus. Trees snap and shatter in the wake of the water’s force. “Grab my hand.”
He stares at my outstretched fingers with kindling fury. “You can’t lift me,” he argues. “I’m too heavy. Now get back up the tree!”
“I can try.” Wildlife flee across the forest floor. A flock of birds explodes skyward, their caws of distress soon muffled by the impending roar. “Hurry!”
“I will not be responsible for your death,” he snarls. “Listen to me—”
“No, you listen to me,” I hiss with a deranged flash of teeth. “I’m not leaving you. You either take my hand, or we stay as we are. Choose.” My heart quivers. My legs have all but liquified, each massive tremor draining their strength. Live together, die together, so long as I am not alone.
Whatever emotion clouds the East Wind’s expression—horror, fury—it spurs him to grab hold.
By the Mother, he’s heavy. I heave, my back screaming in agony. Something pops in my wounded shoulder, and I yelp, my grip loosening.
Eurus leans against the trunk, panting. His wings dangle from his back like pieces of a corpse. And all around, the air is alive, a great roar dousing all thought. “Eurus, you need to climb. Now.”
As I tighten my fingers around his hand, the flood breaches the undergrowth. Trees collapse, shatter into a thousand fragments. Then the wave slams into our tree.
I scream. Water slaps my face, demanding I yield. I choke, inhale liquid, yet it passes, and I blink to clear my vision. The tree bends, creaking ominously, as the force of the flood threatens to yank its roots from the soil.
All the while, the current streams over branches, under leaves. It swarms Eurus’ waist—higher, to his chest. My eyes widen as the surface creeps upward, nearing his neck. My bone-breaking grip is all that connects me to Eurus.
Another drag of the tide, and my shoulder joint ignites with pain. Mother, grant me bones of iron. I bite the inside of my cheek, clinging to the branch with all my strength. Felled trees drift by as though they are mere twigs in a child’s pond.
Suddenly, the water slips between our fingers, and his grip loosens. I dig in my nails as the East Wind’s eyes meet mine.
“Don’t do it,” I cry.
“It’s all right, bird,” he soothes, and I have never heard a more feeble lie. He knows, and I know. If he continues to hold on, we will both be ripped from the tree.
I stare down at his face, all the more beautiful for its imperfections. Why do I only recognize the truth when it is far too late?
“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” I choke out.
And what would have been? In an ideal world, forgiveness, peace, a shared life.
But I see what will follow the moment Eurus releases his hold.
The weight of his wings will drag him down, hold him beneath the surface until his lungs fill with water.
“Hold on. Just for a little while longer.”
A shudder runs down his arm and into mine. “I haven’t the strength, bird. This isn’t your fate, you hear me? Your fate is to live.”
“As is yours!” A sob cracks my sternum in two. “Please, just…”
He lets go.
“Eurus!”
The swollen waters suck him down. He slams into a tree and is swept downstream.
I scream as the trunk lurches, roots releasing their hold on the earth. No. A sharp keen wells behind my clenched teeth. I scan the churning water, my eyes so choked with tears I cannot distinguish his shape from the forest. Eurus will survive. He must.
On the flood sweeps, and still on. Though my unstable shelter bows against the rushing water, I keep my eyes open.
Now is not the time to collapse. I am alive, which means there is still much to do.
Eventually, the flood will move on, and when it does, I will follow its path of destruction.
I will not stop until the East Wind is found.
Because he and I were not destined to die. We were destined to live. Not survive—live. And maybe… maybe our fates are not separate, as I had initially believed. Maybe they are, in fact, intertwined.
After a time, I realize the water level is dropping. Its rush has slowed.
The moment the flood has eased into a trickle, I clamber down the listing tree, feet sinking into the sodden earth. Debris litters the forest floor. The sun punches through countless new breaks in the wood where trees had once stood. My breath stirs the still air.
From afar, there comes a snap, followed by the crash of a collapsing branch. Then this: the low tolling of the bell.
With each discordant clang, my stomach drops lower, hips to knees to feet to ground. The water took my father, but he was mortal. The East Wind would not go quietly. Foolish of me, to think he would not go at all.
I race in the direction I saw Eurus vanish. In addition to the wooden fragments, numerous dead animals litter the ground. Ahead, I spot something. I gasp, quickening my pace, then slow upon recognizing its shape.
The last of the Fates, red hair strewn about like cobwebs, neck broken.
My lips quaver. I seal them tight, eyes stinging. If not for Eurus, I would have met my death in that ferocious water. But I was saved. The day is not yet done.
Less than a mile later, I spot the East Wind slumped against a tree, nursing a broken arm. It is a sight like summer, a brilliant, most vibrant sun.
My breath comes short. I vowed I would not break, not yet. I would wait until we had returned to the privacy of our palace suite.
But he is whole. A bit bruised, perhaps, and shaken, but not broken like those splintered trees. And as his eyes meet mine, a sob fights its way free of my clenched teeth.
Eurus limps toward me, mud-spattered wings trailing behind him. His expression is one of agonized relief. “Bird.”
I fall into his arms. How can I not? The brine of the sea fills my nostrils; I inhale it greedily. And his voice, his voice. It is a balm as he murmurs reassurances, a promise that I am safe, and he is well, and we are together.
“I thought…” Another wavering breath shudders out of me. No matter the years that pass, I will never forget the image of his hand torn from my grip, its disappearance beneath the rising flood. “Eurus—”
His mouth crashes onto mine, eager tongue parting my lips, and I’ve half a mind to rip off his cloak and finish what was started in the cave. As I press forward, he releases a soft hiss of pain. His arm!
When I attempt to pull away, Eurus growls, “No,” and hauls me closer.
The kiss is one of insanity. It is everything, every fraught terror, every broken thread of yearning, every sugar-drenched wish of tomorrow.
By the time we pull apart, I’m panting. “The beast,” I manage. “Was that the one everyone’s been talking about?”
Grave is his mouth, the narrowing of his black eyes. “Yes, but it is dead. I imagine the council captured it, thinking it would make good sport for the final trial.”
Of course they would. “When you were swept downstream, I—”
“Bird.” One of his large hands cradles my face. “I’m all right,” he whispers, brushing his lips with mine. “We both are.”
Thank the Mother of Earth for that.
It is then he takes me into his arms. The dripping fabric of his cloak sticks to my chilled skin, yet I do not feel cold in the slightest. But his trembling gives me pause. The poison!
I pull back in worry, only to find the East Wind laughing. “What is it?” I ask in confusion.
His chuckle tapers off, and he points. “Look.”
The door.
Perched on a distant hill, haloed by a red sun, its gold-plated frame is every dream realized. I have never seen a more beautiful sight.
“We did it, bird.” Eurus gazes down at me, and in his eyes, I see a depth of emotion I have yearned for, quietly, on those particularly frigid nights in the privacy of my bedroom. “We won.”
Biting my quivering lower lip, I nod, throat too tight to speak. So we did.
Together, arms wrapped around each other’s waists, we hobble toward salvation.
With every step forward, the earth rises, but not once do we lose our footing.
Then we are standing before the door, outlined in a ring of light.
The East Wind offers his hand. It says, I am with you and You are not alone and Together, always.
As I slip my hand into his, Eurus turns the handle, and together, we stumble through.