Chapter 10 #3
"You really thought of everything." Cody runs his hand along the curved wall. "This is remarkable, A'Vanti. I'm serious. This building… it has soul."
I turn to look at him, this human who keeps surprising me.
"Thank you," I whisper. "Thank you for bringing me here."
He closes the distance between us. "I'd bring you anywhere."
And then he is kissing me.
His hands cup my face with infinite gentleness, and his lips move on mine with a tenderness that makes my knees weak. I grip the front of his shirt to steady myself and kiss him back, pouring into it all the gratitude and wonder and overwhelming emotion I cannot find words for.
When we finally part, I am trembling.
"We should…" I have to clear my throat. "We should see the rest."
"Right." Cody's voice is rough. "The rest. Yes."
But he does not release me immediately. Instead, he presses his forehead to mine, eyes closed and just breathes.
"I could kiss you forever," he murmurs.
"That would interfere with the sightseeing."
He laughs. That easy, bright sound I am becoming addicted to, and finally steps back. But he keeps hold of my hand.
"Come on," he says, tugging me back toward the main hall. "Time to reveal the classified supplies."
He leads me to one of the alcoves along the hall's western wall, where the early evening light slants in through a cracked but intact window.
The alcove is sheltered from the worst of the sand, and the stone bench built into the curved wall is still solid.
Cody unslings the bag from his shoulder and begins unpacking.
A blanket first, which he shakes out and spreads across the bench and the floor in front of it. Then containers, one after another. A sealed bowl of chariom noodles for me, still hot inside its insulated packaging. A second bowl for himself.
"Mild," he says firmly, pointing at his bowl. "I was very clear when I specified mild."
"And if it is not mild?"
"Then I die with dignity. Surrounded by great architecture."
I press my lips together to keep from laughing.
More containers emerge from the bag. Fried gherro. A small pot of sweet bean paste that I have not tasted since I was a young adult. Two flasks of verak nectar. And something I do not recognize. It is small, dark-brown squares wrapped in a thin, clear material.
"What are those?"
"Brownies." Cody holds one up. "Chocolate. It's a human thing. I think you'll like it."
He arranged all of this. The care behind it, the quiet, deliberate thoughtfulness, tightens my throat.
We settle onto the blanket side by side, our backs to the curved alcove wall, the food spread out between us.
The light shifts as we eat, the sun moving lower, sending long amber beams across the main hall's floor. Dust motes drift through the light like tiny sparks. The faded murals on the far wall catch the sun's beams, and for a moment, I can almost see the colors they used to be.
"It is strange," I say, "eating in here. This hall was always full of people. The noise during festivals was deafening. Children running everywhere, elders arguing about everything, the smell of food from a dozen different vendors." I turn the noodle bowl in my hands. "And now it is just us."
"Maybe that's okay," Cody says. "For now." He tips his head back on the bench and looks up at the soaring ceiling. "You built this place so people could gather. Share meals together. Be with the people they cared about." He glances at me. "That's what we're doing."
He is right. The building is doing exactly what I designed it to do. It is sheltering us. It is holding space for something that matters.
I reach over and brush my fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch, and we sit like that for a while, quiet and unhurried, eating and watching the light move across the walls of my building.
The brownie, when I finally try it, is extraordinary. Dense and rich, sweet in a way that Cerastean food rarely is. The flavor is deep and complex, and it melts on my tongue.
"Well?" Cody asks, watching my face.
"This is acceptable," I say, already reaching for a second one.
His grin is enormous. But he doesn't comment while I primly eat a second brownie.
We pack up when the food is gone, Cody folding the blanket and tucking the empty containers back into the bag. The hall feels different now. Less like a ruin and more like a place that has been used, however briefly, for its intended purpose.
We leave the community center and walk through the abandoned settlement.
The silence is profound, broken only by the whisper of wind through empty doorways and the distant call of a desert bird.
I show Cody the marketplace where vendors once sold their wares, the small temple where citizens used to pray, and the school that had once been filled with children's laughter.
I lived here for nearly a year while overseeing construction. Long enough to know every corner.
It is strange, walking through this place that was once so full of life. Strange and sad and yet somehow healing.
"There is something else I want to show you." I lead him toward the edge of the settlement, to a place where the rocky ground rises in a gentle slope. "This is the real reason Brishar exists. It is why the town was built here in the first place."
"What is it?"
"Come and see."
We climb the path, and the volcano's slope opens before us into a massive cave mouth.
The entrance is enormous. Wide enough to fit several shuttles side by side, tall enough that the ceiling disappears into shadow.
Warm air drifts up from the depths, carrying a hint of moisture that feels almost miraculous in the desert heat.
"The Springs of Brishar." I gesture into the darkness. "Pools of mineral-rich water, heated by geothermal vents deep beneath the volcano. My people believe the waters have healing properties. People would travel from all across Ceraste to bathe here."
"For healing?"
"For healing, yes. But also for spiritual purposes.
It was said that the springs could cleanse not only the body, but the soul.
That bathing in them could wash away sorrow, could help you release what no longer served you.
" I smile softly. "People came here at crossroads too – before a great decision, or when they had lost their way and needed to find it again.
My grandmother called it 'the place where burdens are left behind. '"
Cody peers into the cave.
"Would you like to see it?"
He answers by digging into his bag and pulling out two flashlights. He hands one to me with an eager grin.
"The springs are not far," I say. "Perhaps a ten-minute walk. The path is well-marked."
We descend into the earth together.
The cave walls glitter in the beams of the flashlights, veined with minerals that sparkle like embedded stars. The path slopes gently downward, carved smooth by countless feet over a millennium. The air grows cooler as we go deeper, and the faint sound of running water begins to reach my ears.
"It is beautiful," Cody says, and he is not wrong.
The formations around us are ancient and otherworldly.
Stalactites hang from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls, and stalagmites rise from the floor like stone pillars.
In places, the two have met, forming columns that stretch from floor to ceiling.
The cave walls are black basalt, rippled with ancient lava flows, but time and water have added streaks of rust and burnt orange.
In places, copper minerals have bled through the stone, leaving iridescent streaks of blue-green.
And then the tunnel opens into a view of an underground lake, and Cody goes still beside me.
The main cavern is vast, but not dark. Cracks and fissures in the ceiling let daylight spill through in pale golden shafts, illuminating the pools below like a scene from an ancient legend. Where the light touches the water, it glows a pale, milky blue that seems to shimmer from within.
Steam rises gently from the water's surface.
The springs are naturally heated by geothermal activity.
The air smells of earthy minerals and a green, herbal fragrance, the algae that thrives in these waters releasing its scent into the mist. It is said that breathing the air here has restorative properties.
"A'Vanti." Cody's voice is hushed, reverent. "This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen."
I smile at his wonder. "The colors come from the minerals and the algae. The combination of the hot water, the minerals, and the algae is what gives the springs their healing properties."
He crouches at the edge of the nearest pool and dips his fingers into the water. "It's warm. And tingly?"
"The minerals. Your skin will feel very supple afterward." I crouch beside him. "Some people say they feel rejuvenated for months after bathing here."
We are both silent for a moment, looking out at the glowing pools, listening to the gentle sound of water moving over stone.
"We should go swimming." Cody grins at me. "Right? That's the whole point."
The thought of slipping into those glowing, luminous waters with him makes my scales flush dark. "I would like that very much."
"But?"
I check my internal sense of time. "We have perhaps two hours before full dark. The walk back to the ship, the flight to the hangar… if we swim now, we may not make it back in time."
Cody's expression falls. "Right. I almost forgot D'Rett's orders."
"We could come back," I offer. "Another day, with more time."
"Promise?"
I take his hand in mine. "I promise."
He lifts my knuckles to his lips and presses a kiss to each one. "Then we come back. Soon."
"Soon."
We linger a moment longer, reluctant to leave this place of beauty and peace. Then, by unspoken agreement, we turn and begin the walk back toward the surface.
The climb up feels shorter than the descent, perhaps because I am already thinking about the return journey.
Already planning what we might bring next time.
I want to share this place with Cody properly.
Want to watch his face as he floats in the glowing water, want to hear his laugh echo off the cavern walls, want to—
We emerge from the cave into early evening light, and I stop.
The sky has changed.
What was clear and golden an hour ago is now hazy, the light taking on a dusty amber quality. The wind has picked up too, carrying with it a fine grit. And on the horizon, in the direction of Spire Mountain, I see it.
A wall of brown and orange, stretching from the ground to the heavens. Moving fast.
"Oh no," I gasp.