by Caitlin Seal
The darkness around her ebbed and flowed, and for a moment Naya thought she could see the way Lucia’s and Corten’s lives wove into hers. She felt the loneliness and uncertainty that had haunted Lucia since the war. The weight of secrets that had only doubled when Valn appeared like a specter from her bloody past. Emotions and memories flashed by, and Naya gasped as she felt Lucia’s anger and fear of her transform to grudging respect, and then a sense of kinship and pride that made Naya’s chest ache.
Meanwhile Corten’s life wove around and through theirs, tying them together more tightly even as his threads became hopelessly entangled with Naya’s. For an instant she saw herself as he must have seen her when they first met—a pretty girl, uncertain and stubborn and mysterious in her contradictions. Anger at her betrayal hit him like a physical blow. Forgiveness grew slowly as he watched her fight against Valn’s plots. Then wonder exploded as her lips brushed his, as they imagined a future together. The lines of their lives spun together until they wove so tight Naya couldn’t tell them apart. There was another flash of light and a single, bright burst of pain.
Then all at once the pain was gone, transforming to an uncomfortable hum in the back of her mind. Naya blinked and realized she was still kneeling in the center of the runed circle. Lucia stared back at her, eyes wide and one hand clutching her chest. Her breath was shallow and fast. As Naya recovered her senses she realized the dissonance had resolved itself into a rapid beat, almost like a pulse. She met Lucia’s eyes. Lucia swallowed, closed her eyes, and made an obvious effort to calm herself. The pulse in Naya’s mind slowed, focused until it beat steadily from the new bone in her pinkie. Naya reached up to touch her chest, felt the rib that rested there, just over her own heart, silent.
“Do it.”
And just like that, Lucia began to sing. The words wrapped around Naya, strange and incomprehensible. The air shimmered, and something brushed against her arms, her back, her face, like tiny hands grasping her. Naya closed her eyes and fought a surge of fear as the roaring of death’s tides dragged her under.
Naya opened her eyes to a world defined in shades of black and gray. Something that was not quite water and not quite mist rushed around her legs, tugging her deeper into death. Behind her, Lucia’s image shimmered as if Naya were seeing her through the waters of a windswept lake. The necromancer’s song echoed around her, urging her back toward the portal. Adding to the song’s pull, a tenuous cord of light drifted from the bone in Naya’s pinkie finger, binding her to life. The cord thrummed with each beat of Lucia’s heart. Naya pressed her hand to her chest where Corten’s rib lay, searching for another beat. An echo. Anything.
There was no beat. No string of light to guide her. But after a long, terrifying moment, Naya felt something stir. It was ethereal. The half-caught scent of orange soap on singed clothes. A brush of heat like breath from an open furnace. The memory of a kiss. The sensations were there and gone so quick they left her wondering if she’d imagined them. But as she stood, they seemed to pull her forward. Naya started walking.
Wisps of pale-blue aether steamed off her with each step, disappearing into the air. Unnerved, she tried to draw the energy back in. She felt nothing. It was like tipping back a glass and expecting cool water but instead finding only air. The bones in her hand glowed faintly through her skin, but a sliver of darkness marred her thumb where the cracked bone lay. What would happen if she ran out of aether here? Naya gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep moving. Lucia’s song grew fainter, but the thread of light pulsed strong and steady. The tide pushed against her legs. Its roar twisted in her ears until Naya thought she could hear words among the noise.
Turn back.
Come.
Die.
Naya clutched the front of her blouse, following the ghostly sensations from the compass. Her thoughts grew fuzzy. They seemed to twine with the voices of the tide, making it hard to tell which came from the dark and which belonged to her. Noise rose around her until she felt like she was surrounded by a crowd of people. She could feel eyes on her, someone, no something, lurking behind her.
Naya took another step and the world exploded with color. Cobblestones appeared beneath her feet. Streets rolled outward while leaning shops rose in blocks to frame a strip of bright blue sky. Naya’s head spun as she stared at the faded wooden street signs. Belavine. She was in Belavine. But how? She turned and—
“Watch—!” Something slammed into her. Naya fell, then looked up to see a heavyset woman in a flowing green skirt and black vest standing over her. A shopping basket lay next to Naya, its contents scattered over the paving stones. The woman pursed her lips as she bent to collect her things.
The thick smells of the Belavine market swirled around Naya. Horror rose in her stomach as she watched herself grab her document folder and stand. She was two people at once. One was the naive living girl with bloodied hands, eager to get her contract signed and please her father. The other was the real her, the girl who’d died and returned and fought and killed her father and—
“They’re both the same, both you,” a soft voice whispered.
No. No they weren’t the same. Naya had become someone better, stronger. This other girl had been a fool who couldn’t see the evil all around her. Her old body stood, and Naya experienced an echo of revulsion as her younger self realized the woman before her was undead.
The hairs on the back of the living Naya’s neck prickled, but when she looked behind her, there was no sign of the man she’d noticed following her. Her hand throbbed, and for an instant she thought she saw something else there, something dark and writhing. Then her body started walking up into the hills, toward her own death.
With every step she tried to turn away, tried to pick a different path. But no matter how hard she fought, her legs wouldn’t obey her commands. This wasn’t right. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She had to find Corten, had to save him.
“Are you strong enough?” the soft voice whispered again. “Are you really here for him? Or is it just your own guilt that drives you? You came back because you know your life is wrong. You should be dead. You should have died right here.”
Naya felt the sting of the dart in her neck, the burning as the poison began to spread. More voices joined the first, forming a cacophony of whispers that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
Give up.
Rest.
You are not strong enough for this.
“I am,” Naya snarled. She reached up and pulled the dart from her neck with trembling fingers. She could feel her limbs going numb. But that sensation couldn’t be real. Maybe once she’d died like this, but now she had no flesh, no blood to carry the poison. This was just a memory, and she would not let it keep her from what needed to be done.
Naya took a step. Her legs steadied even as a deep ache blossomed in her hand. She took another step and the walls of the alley faded, a gray-and-black world peeking through. Naya clutched her chest and tried to find the thread of emotion that had led her this far. Corten was out there somewhere. “I will find him,” Naya said.
A snarl of rage cut through the air behind her.
She spun and saw something dark and huge rise from the tidal mists. Arms and legs stuck out at odd angles, writhing against the darkness, making it impossible to judge the shape of the thing. It had far, far too many limbs, and claws, and mouths. Primal terror flooded her mind, burying logic and thought under the all-consuming need to flee.
Naya stood frozen, staring back at the monstrosity. The tides surged against her legs and every inch of her body shook with fear.
“Run,” the soft voice whispered urgently.
“No,” Naya said. This thing couldn’t be real. This place was just trying to frighten her away. “No!” she screamed. She had no weapon, no way to fight if she was wrong. She planted her feet as the creature charged.
“You fool!” This time the voice
was a shout.
Naya raised her hand in a warding gesture. Then bright sparks whirled around her. The ground vanished, sending her plummeting even as the creature’s claws slashed forward with terrible speed.
Naya let out a startled cry and squeezed her eyes shut.
Instead of rending claws, she felt herself land gently on something soft and cool. Cautiously, she opened her eyes and blinked against the sudden brightness of afternoon sunlight. For a moment all she could do was stare in shock at the grassy hillside that had materialized around her. Down the gentle slope, she could just make out the red rooftops of Lith Lor in the distance. She scrambled to her feet. Her attacker was nowhere to be seen. The only sounds on the hilltop were the song of birds and the quiet shushing of wind playing in the leaves of a nearby tree. What was this place? Another memory? Was she still in death?
“Come sit on the blanket, Little Bird. You’re going to stain your dress.”
The voice was soft and kind, and it cut through Naya like a knife. She spun. A woman sat on a blanket behind her, pulling a loaf of bread from a picnic basket. She was in her thirties, though the lines on her face made her look older. Her brown curls were pinned up to show a slender neck, and she was smiling. Healthy.
“Mother?” Naya whispered.
Her mother’s smile turned sad. “No, Naya, I’m not really her. But I thought talking this way would make you more comfortable.”
Naya stepped back. “Who…What are you? Where am I?” This was worse than reliving her death. The wrongness of the scene made her head spin even as her heart cried out for her to fall into her mother’s arms and weep with joy.
“Don’t you remember?” the stranger who was definitely not her mother asked. “We’re outside the village of Vel Dar. Your mother was born here, and when you were six, she brought you to visit.”
She remembered. It was just a few months before her mother got sick. Naya had spent hours collecting flowers and rolling down one of the grassy hills with the village children. “This can’t be real. How did I get here? And what was that thing?” she asked. She tried again to draw in aether, but still there was nothing.
The stranger flicked one hand in a gesture of irritation. “That thing was a scavenger. They feed off the energy of life that seeps through with the newly dead. That one’s been stalking you ever since you stepped through your portal. I’ve managed to hide you for now, but eventually more scavengers will come. They will find you, and they will consume you.”
Naya shuddered. There were more of those monsters? “What are you? Why are you helping me?”
The stranger smiled again. “Think of me as a messenger. Your coming has sent ripples through the world’s energy. Certain powers have taken notice. They sent me to deal with you.”
Naya wrapped her arms around her shoulders. The rib in her chest still thrummed softly. She was beginning to wonder if she’d made a mistake charging so blindly into death. Somehow she’d convinced herself that once they had the ritual, finding Corten would be if not easy, then at least simple. Either his soul would be waiting for her on the other side or he would have passed on to someplace she couldn’t reach. “Deal with me how?”
“First,” the stranger said, “tell me of the one who sent you here. That portal she scribed is old magic, a sort we have not sensed for a very, very long time.”
“She’s a necromancer. She sent me to find someone,” Naya said.
“That much is obvious. But where did she get such knowledge?”
Naya hesitated. “Does it matter?”
The stranger’s eyes narrowed in an expression of cold anger that Naya was sure she’d never seen on her mother’s face. “It matters a great deal.”
Something in the stranger’s eyes told Naya that any lie she told would be spotted immediately. “We got the runes in Talmir. One of the scribes there kept a book with notes on this ritual after the purges in Ceramor. I’m sorry, but I’m not sure where the knowledge came from before that.”
The stranger tilted her head as though listening to something far away, then nodded. “We have seen memories of this purge.” The stranger’s eyes focused on Naya again. “It’s interesting how she’s bound you. You’re like a bead on a string held taut, your path fixed between two points. Not the most elegant way of walking the fringe, but effective enough for what you seek.”
Naya took a step toward the stranger. “If you know why I’m here, can you tell me where Corten is?”
Again the stranger paused as though to listen, though all Naya could hear was the distant song of birds and the whisper of the wind. A wrinkle creased the stranger’s brow, then smoothed away. “We have watched the one you seek. He is stubborn, and his mind is strong enough that he has not yet broken, though he still refuses to pass through the door.”
“The door?” Naya looked around, some part of her half expecting to see a door appear on the hillside. “Where is he? Can you bring him to me?”
The stranger held up one hand. “Peace, Little Bird.”
“Don’t call me that!” Naya snapped. Little Bird had been her mother’s nickname for her. How did this stranger even know it? For that matter, how had she known what Naya’s mother looked like, or about the day they’d gone to Vel Dar?
The stranger’s expression darkened. “Watch your tone, spirit. You have no idea of the forces you’re dealing with. Your necromancer is a child playing with magics she barely understands. You are far less than that.”
Naya shivered at the sudden ice of the stranger’s tone. There was something off about her, something old and inhuman. But whatever she was, she knew where to find Corten. “I’m sorry,” Naya forced herself to say.
The stranger nodded. “Better. Now, I respect your courage in coming here. For that we will ensure you make it safely back to the living world, but you will be going back alone.”
“No!” Naya cried. “I came here for Corten. If you won’t help me find him, then let me go and I’ll find him myself!”
“You will fail,” the stranger said. “You have two options. Accept my offer and return to the living, or continue on to your true death. You might find the one you seek waiting near the door. But if you go that far, then not even the magic anchoring you will be enough to let you return.”
“What about your magic?” Naya asked, following a hunch. “You said necromancy is only at the edge of the old magics. If necromancy can take me this far, there has to be something else that will let me walk the rest of the way.”
The stranger’s eyes darkened with anger until they no longer resembled anything remotely human. “No. That magic is not for you.”
“Then I’ll find my own way!”
“You’ll die,” the stranger said.
A voice spoke from behind Naya before she could reply. “You know there’s another option.”
Naya turned to see a shadowy figure standing on the green hilltop. Darkness wisped around him almost like aether. As Naya watched, the darkness solidified until she was looking at a man in strange robes with a long beard and dark, piercing eyes. “Who are you?” Naya asked.
“Someone who should not be here,” the woman said. “Go away. I am dealing with this one.”
The man shook his head. “I have watched the boy she seeks. He has strength. If we guide him back from the door, this could be the opportunity we’ve been looking for.”
“So there is a way?” Naya asked. She looked between the man and the woman. “Please, I’ll do anything.”
“It won’t work. I see no reason to waste the scraps of power we’ve gathered on this,” the woman said. “He’s no better than all the others you’ve suggested. Eventually he will break.”
“So we keep waiting?” the man asked. There was scorn in his voice now. “You’ve heard the same whispers I have. You know what is coming. Make the boy our agent. At the least he will bring more information than we gain f
rom the ordinary dead.”
The woman shook her head. “The risks—”
“The girl seems willing enough to take them, and I believe the boy will be as well.”
“What are you talking about?” Naya asked, frustration coloring her voice. “What do you mean you’ll make Corten your agent?”
“Yes,” the woman said. “Tell her exactly what you are suggesting. Tell her what it will cost and see if she is still so eager.”
The man turned to Naya and she shuddered. On the surface there was nothing obviously wrong, but just like with the woman, she got the impression that something old and unknowable was staring out at her from behind the mask of that human face. “Our ties to the living world are thin. But we feel ripples, watch memories. We know someone has gone into the bone swamp and brought out secrets that should have been destroyed long ago. We have seen the image of a queen gathering armies in the east. The knowledge she has discovered could cause great suffering if used in the wrong ways. We need an agent in the world to find this queen, learn her intentions, and stop her if necessary. If the boy agrees, we will grant him what tools we can, and he will be bound to our task. If he fails, there will not be enough of him left to fight the door a second time.”
“And if he succeeds, he gets to live out the rest of his life, right?” Naya asked.
The man and the woman exchanged a look. “If he succeeds,” the man said, “then the power we lend him will become permanent.”
“That is not the full price,” the woman said. “The boy has been at the door too long. The energy we have will not be enough to make him what he needs to be. The rest will have to come from you.”
“How much energy?” Naya asked. A shiver of fear ran through her.
