Chapter 40
The palace grounds are a different place from when I left them. Perhaps that is because the moment I emerge, flowers spring in my wake, the sun focuses its gentlest beam in my direction. Or perhaps I am that beam, making my way across the grass to my companions, who kneel around my former body, their eyes overflowing with tears, their bodies broken by grief. Ixa curls around me in the kitten form I love so much, his grief a living thing—one echoed by his mother and the other ebiki, who follow this solemn procession in their smaller, humanlike forms. They all wail and cry tears as bitter as the blood now salting the land of Otera.
And yet I am here. I am as I always was, and somehow I am more. That is the conundrum of divinity. I wonder if I will get used to it.
Ixa is the first to notice me. Deka? he says, rising, wonder in his eyes. A precious fluff of a thing, he bounds in my direction. Deka come back?
In a manner of speaking, I say, smiling, when he arrives.
His movement alerts Britta, who gasps, eyes widening as they gaze upon my new form. Where once I was flesh and bone, I am now darkness and sunlight intertwined. I am the fire of a thousand volcanoes, the sting of a thousand blades. I am the cry of dying soldiers, the wail of newborn babies. And I am the softness of a mother’s touch, the warmth of a parent’s love. All these things I am and more.
I am Otera itself, the wishes of a dying realm in the process of being slowly reborn.
“Deka?” Britta asks, stumbling up. “Deka, is it truly ye?”
The others follow her gaze, eyes wide, hands outstretched as if to touch me. And yet, if they were to do so, their hands would pass through me. Just as Ixa’s body does, though he keeps trying.
I nod, a human enough gesture, and the grass ripples in concert with my movement. “Yes,” I say. “And no. I am changed.” I repeat the same to Ixa with my thoughts, showing him what I am now, so he understands.
When he humphs and lies on the grass, I smile. He is not impressed, but that is his prerogative as my very first godsworn. I return my gaze to Britta, who still gapes as she circles me.
“Yer a god now,” she says in that funny mortal manner of turning questions into statements.
“Indeed.”
“So can you bring Asha back?” Adwapa asks, eyes red with tears as she hurries over, her sister’s corpse still in her hands. “Can you bring them all back?”
I shake my head. “I cannot.”
“Why?”Adwapa shrieks, striking me as if her hands can actually land. “You’re a god! Why can’t you bring my sister back?”
“It would go against the natural order.”
“Confound the natural order! We’re talking about Asha!”
“Indeed we are, which is why I have something to show you.” I point. “Look.”
There, in the distance, are Asha, Katya, Rian, and Kweku, standing in front of a golden field, spires rising in the distance. Adwapa’s eyes round. “The Afterlands?”
I nod.
“They’re real?”
“For those who wish them,” I explain. “We create our own Afterlands until we’re ready to be born again. Such is the nature of the Great Circle.”
“Adwapa!” Asha says happily, beckoning to her sister from the golden field. “Will you walk with me? I’m off to see our parents.”
“And mine,” Kweku adds cheerfully.
“We were thinking of finally getting married,” Katya says shyly, smiling down at Rian.
Even though she’s human now, she’s still taller than him. I do not recall if she was always that way, or if both she and Rian chose it. That is the effect of the Blissful Lands: you become most yourself there.
“So, are you coming?” Asha asks.
Adwapa nods as her eyes fill with tears. “For as long as you wish.”
“Me too,” Belcalis says solemnly. “I would like to see you off.”
“An’ me,” Britta adds, her eyes glistening with tears.
“And me,” Li and Acalan say together.
“Let’s go, then,” Asha beckons, walking into the field.
Her sister follows her, Britta, Belcalis, Li, and Acalan at her side. I don’t worry when they all walk into the field together. After all, what they’re seeing is a vision of it, just as much as their living minds can comprehend. Adwapa holds her sister’s hands, tears flowing down her cheeks the entire way.
And then it’s just Keita and I in the garden, Ixa snapping at the butterflies now returning to the newly blooming trees.
He’s been standing quietly here all this time, just looking at me, as if he’s trying to comprehend. “How does it feel?” he finally asks.
I look down at my hands, pondering the question. “I am all. I am one. As we all are.”
“Does that mean I’ll never see you again?” He turns away after he asks me, as if he cannot bear whatever answer I intend to give him.
“Your heart is breaking,” I say, flowing over so I again stand before him. I press a hand close to it. “You believe I am leaving you. That I am above you now, beyond your reach.”
His thoughts filter easily into my consciousness, a tangle of emotions and longing. Mortality is so fraught—due to its brevity, everything is fragile, every feeling is heightened.
“That is the nature of the divine.” This reply comes from White Hands, who, with her sister Sayuri, is now walking into the garden.
Her thoughts flow easily through me, so I turn to her. “I will not become a tyrant,” I say. “That is your deepest fear.”
“I have many fears,” White Hands replies.
I see them in her. So many, to match the knowledge that she has. The wisdom of age—of immortality. Wisdom to rival a god’s.
“But you have faced them all,” I acknowledge. “And you will continue doing so.”
“It is not in my nature to turn away from what I fear.” She gazes into the distance, where Melanis’s ashes are scattering, the once proud alaki mere dust on the wind.
I say a little prayer that when she is born again, the world will be a gentler place. That I will have made it a gentler place. But everything I am depends on the wishes of those I serve. Ultimately, it is they who will determine what Otera finally becomes.
“What do you intend to do?” White Hands asks.
“I have already done it,” I say. “I have dispersed my predecessors, healed their vales, and sent their creations to a world more fitting for them—one where they can thrive. They too were innocents in this.”
“You have pity for monsters?”
“I have empathy for anyone who was created for a task they never asked to accomplish.”
As White Hands ponders this, I turn back to the golden fields. The others are returning now. Just like in any temple of the gods, time there is different from the one in this existence. They’re sure to have lived several lifetimes in the moments they’ve been gone. It’s not enough to make up for what they’ve lost, but hopefully, it can suffice.
I wait until they’re gathered around me before I speak again. “I have a query for you all,” I say, glancing from one to the other. “A proposal, if you like.”
“And what’s that?” Belcalis seems more curious than suspicious.
She has accepted my new existence with remarkable composure. But then, she has always been a remarkable soul. Bruised but not broken. Compassionate but not weak.
She will make a wonderful empress.
Even as I think this, I see it, her fate unfurling in front of me. So many different threads, but for her, they all end in the same direction: the throne.
The others, however, are as yet unformed. So I ask the question I returned here to ask. “Who among you wishes to join me? Who among you will ascend to the new pantheon of Otera?”
For a moment, there is silence, and then my companions begin to speak.
“Ye want us to join ye,” Britta says, her eyes blinking as she tries to understand what I’m saying. “To become gods, unending?”
“Eternal,” I agree.
Britta blanches. “Eternity is a long time,” she says.
I orient closer to her. “You do not need to explain any further, beloved Britta. I know your feelings, and Li’s as well.” I turn to where he’s edged closer so he can pull her hand into his.
Britta grins. “I knew ye’d understand, even though ye are a god now. Eternity’s no good for us. We want a wedding an’ all that. Not right now, mind ye, but in a few years….”
“It’ll be a beautiful ceremony,” Li agrees. “In the traditional Eastern style.”
“No, Northern,” Britta corrects.
“Both,” Li swiftly compromises. “We’ll do both.”
“And then we’ll have a family, children…. ,” Britta adds. “The gods don’t do very well with children, you understand.”
I nod, thinking of the alaki and the jatu, both children my predecessors miserably failed. “No, they do not,” I agree. “And yes, I do understand.”
I turn to the rest. “What of you? What do you wish to do?”
Acalan swiftly shakes his head. “I’m thinking of visiting Maiwuri. I might even look up Lamin, if that’s all right with you.”
“Of course,” I say. I have already forgiven my former companion, who only did what he felt was just.
“No,” Adwapa says curtly, shaking her head when I turn to her. “I have had enough of the gods.”
Even me. This last part lies unspoken, but I can hear it deep inside her. I can feel it—the anger that still lingers. The pain. It is difficult to become an individual when you’ve spent your entire life being a pair.
I open a door beside her and point. “Mehrut is waiting there,” I say. “She’ll be happy to see you.”
Adwapa nods brusquely, and then she’s gone. I do not mind the abruptness of her departure; she’ll come around in time.
The only ones yet to reply are Belcalis, Keita, and White Hands. Sayuri has wandered off, unimpressed, as she so often is, by the proceedings.
Belcalis smiles wryly. “I notice you’re not even bothering to look at me.”
I incline my head. “We both know you have another fate in mind. Even though you have always kept it in your heart.”
“The best surprises are just that.” Belcalis acknowledges. “Surprises.”
“Indeed, they are,” I say, then I turn to Keita and White Hands, each deep in thought. “Well, then, what about the two of you?”
White Hands nods. “I don’t know about you, young jatu, but I’ve always wanted to see the universe. This is as good a chance as any.” She takes the hand I extend her.
“And you?” I ask Keita, already knowing his answer.
“You and I, always and forever,” he says, smiling.
“For eternity,” I say.
“For eternity,” he whispers.
Just like that, he takes my other hand, and the three of us walk into the darkness of the stars together.