by Rachel Aaron
“Yes,” he said quietly, reaching out to brush her bangs away from her eyes. “You’ve had a hard run of things since I left you, carina, and I’m sorry for that. A father is supposed to protect his child, not make her life more difficult.”
“You didn’t do anything,” Marci said, shaking her head. “Bixby wouldn’t have come after me if I’d just left the Kosmolabe in Nevada, and all the stuff after with the seers and Ghost and helping Julius was entirely my decision.”
“I know,” he said. “You’ve always been ambitious. This is hardly the first time you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, but killing yourself over doctoral coursework is a far cry from actually getting killed.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dad—”
“No,” he said sternly, grabbing her hands. “They killed you, carina. All these spirits and dragons and monsters, they ask too much. Of both of us.”
Marci looked down guiltily. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forgotten you, but it was the only way to beat Vann Jeger and save Julius and—”
“I know,” Aldo said. “I have your memories, don’t forget. I know why you made the choices you did, and I’m not angry about being forgotten. You did what you had to do, and the living should come before the dead. That’s why I want you to consider your choices carefully now, because there’s much she isn’t telling you.”
He looked pointedly at Amelia, who bristled. “You make it sound like I’m trying to con her.”
“Are you?” Marci asked.
Amelia looked appalled. “Of course not! He just wants you to stay dead so he can stay here with you instead of going back to the Empty Wind.”
Marci’s eyes went wide, but when she looked at her father, he didn’t deny it.
“I don’t think it’s shocking that I’d rather stay in this warm, peaceful place with my daughter than go back to the empty cold of a death god,” Aldo said. “But this is about Marci, not me. I’m her father. I care about her in life and death, which is more than I can say for you.” His eyes narrowed. “You were happy to let her die if it got you what you wanted.”
“I didn’t ‘let her die,’” Amelia said angrily. “It was a calculated risk!”
“That you didn’t tell her about.”
“Only because telling her would have ruined everything!” the dragon cried. “If I’d warned her what was coming, that knowledge could have changed her decisions and ruined years of Bob’s plans. I couldn’t take that risk, and I knew it would be fine. Marci understands better than most dragons that greatness doesn’t come easy or cheap. That’s why I bet it all on her in the first place.” She looked up at Marci. “Right?”
Marci sighed. She was flattered Amelia thought so highly of her, but…“I’d rather not have died,” she said honestly. “Not if there was another way.”
“There wasn’t,” Amelia said, digging her tiny claws into Marci’s skin. “All Merlins get to this side through their spirits, and you’re bound to the spirit of the Forgotten Dead. Death was always your ticket. All Bob and I did was nudge things around a bit to make sure you died at the right time and in the right way so that I could come with you.”
“You used her,” Aldo said angrily.
“She used me back!” Amelia cried, puffing out her chest. “Why do you think I’m so tiny, huh? Marci sucked me down to embers before she died, but did I complain? No! I let her take whatever she needed, because that’s what friendship’s all about: using and being used in return.”
Aldo Novalli opened his mouth to argue, but Marci got there first. “Enough,” she said, putting up her hands. “I appreciate you sticking up for me, Daddy, but what’s done is done. Amelia’s right. I did use her, and while I definitely would have appreciated a heads up about what was coming, I wouldn’t have chosen differently at the end. I still would have died, so now that that’s settled, I’d like to focus on not being dead anymore rather than arguing over whose fault it is.”
“But that’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Aldo said desperately. “You came into this thinking you could just walk out again, but that’s not how it is. This is death, the mortal end. It isn’t something you can casually come back from.”
A cold knot began to form in Marci’s chest. “But there has to be a way,” she said. “Why would I die to become a Merlin if there was no way back?”
Her father sighed. “I don’t know as much about planar metaphysics as your friend there, but I’ve flown with the Empty Wind for a long time now, and—”
“Come on, dude, really?” Amelia interrupted. “She only forgot you a week ago.”
“A week can be a very long time in a place where time doesn’t mean much,” Aldo answered, keeping his eyes stubbornly on Marci. “I know you came here thinking death was a doorway. Others led you to believe that, and maybe for them it is, but we’re not spirits, carina. We’re mortals, and for us, it’s never that simple.”
“But it is possible,” Marci said, fists clenching. “I stopped fighting for my life because Ghost told me dying was the path to becoming a Merlin. Are you saying he lied?”
“No, no,” Aldo said, shaking his head. “He was absolutely right. It is the only way for you, but it’s not an easy path.”
“I never expected it to be!”
“I know,” he said, clutching her hands. “You’ve never shied away from hard tasks, but I don’t think you comprehend the difference in degree here.” He looked up with a sigh. “I think the best way is just to show you. Come with me.”
He turned and walked into the house. Equal parts nervous and curious, Marci followed, climbing the stairs to the porch with Amelia clinging to her shoulder.
Now that she knew whose memories had built it, stepping through the door of the house she’d shared with Julius hurt more than Marci expected. It didn’t seem possible that she could feel so strongly about a place where she’d spent such a small part of her life, but for the weeks she’d lived here with Julius, this building had been home. Their home, together. But just as she was thinking she wouldn’t have traded her time here for the world, Marci realized she had. Julius had been right there when she died, yelling at her to stay, to hold on. But she hadn’t. She’d let go of him to follow Ghost into death, thinking it was only temporary. Thinking she could come back. Now, following her father up the creaking stairs, Marci began to wonder if she’d made a terrible mistake.
When they climbed to the third floor, she figured they were headed for her casting workshop in the attic, but her father didn’t turn at the final landing. Instead, he opened the window, sliding up the glass pane and popping the rusted screen so he could crawl out onto the slanted roof. He really had to crawl, too. This was the tallest part of the old house, the sharp-slanted gables that ran directly beneath the blackened cement bottoms of the on-ramps. Nervously, Marci crawled after him, clinging to the crumbling asphalt shingles to keep from sliding off. When she was stable enough to look up, she raised her head to ask her dad why he’d brought her up, only to discover there was no need. The truth was right in front of her.
“Wow,” she whispered.
In the real world, the spiraling ramps above their house met up to form the final merge lane onto the Skyways. Here, though, the ramps forming the roof simply vanished, leaving a circle of darkness at the peak of the cavern that rippled like water.
“What is that?” Marci asked, scooting carefully along the steep roof until she was crouching at the edge, as close to the circle as she could get.
“What lies beyond,” her father said, sitting down beside her. “Remember how Amelia said your death was a hollow carved into the magical landscape?” He pointed at the darkness. “That’s its mouth. The place where your hollow meets the rest.”
Marci’s eyes went wide. “You mean that black stuff is the magical plane?”
“We’re already on the magical plane,” Amelia said, leaning out on Marci’s shoulder to get a better view of the undulating darkness over their heads. “Remember, your death is just a scratch in
the magical landscape. What you see there is the rest of it. The view from the ground, as it were.”
Marci’s eyes went wider still. “Hold up a second,” she said slowly. “You’re telling me that black watery stuff is magic? Like, the magic, the literal manasphere, the place where Tectonic Magic happens and all ambient magic rises from, the Sea of Magic?”
“Yes,” Amelia said, giving her a funny look. “Didn’t I make that clear earlier?”
She had, but hearing you were inside the magical landscape where spirits had their vessels and all magic originated was a far cry from seeing it with your own eyes. And not just seeing. This close, Marci could feel the power radiating down from the upside-down pool. The black substance might have looked like water, but it was humming with power like a high-voltage wire, absolutely nothing like the soft, hazy ambient magic she’d worked with back when she was alive. This was the real stuff: the pure, unfiltered, untamed, concentrated magic that filled spirits and brought them to life.
“This is incredible!” she cried, shooting to her feet. “All that talk about magic acting like water wasn’t just a metaphor. It’s real. It’s right there!” She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Can I touch it?”
“Only if you want to lose a hand,” her father said, reaching up to pull her back down. “This is what I wanted to show you, carina. We’re safe here, but what’s outside isn’t our world. The Empty Wind released me so I could guide you back to him, but to do that, you’ll have to leave the shelter of your death.”
“So?” Marci said. “Why would I want to sit around here?”
“Because you can sit around,” he said desperately, placing her hand on the roof beneath them. “Your Julius has given you a great gift. Thanks to his memories, your death is large and comfortable, and because he’s a dragon, it will probably remain that way for a very long time. If you wanted, you could stay here for centuries in peace and safety. That is a treasure, Marcivale. Others are not nearly so lucky.”
She didn’t need the way his voice dipped at the end to know what he meant. “You’re talking about your own death, aren’t you?”
Aldo dropped his eyes with a sigh. “Bixby was a thorough man,” he said, dragging a hand through his graying hair. “When he killed someone, he made sure they wouldn’t be missed, and I was no exception. When I woke up after…after what happened in the desert, my death was no deeper than the ditch they left me in, and as time passed, even that began to shrink.”
“What do you mean ‘shrink’?”
“Exactly what you imagine,” he said sadly, looking up at the circle where the magic pooled like tar. “Our deaths are nothing more than scratches, the tiny nicks our lives leave on a much greater world. Some are bigger than others, but all of us are forgotten in the end, and with no living memory to keep our deaths open, they eventually wash away.”
“Wash away?” she repeated, voice shaking. “As in vanish?”
He nodded. “I know you didn’t come here intending to remain, but I don’t want you to throw away a treasure like this without knowing its value first. When I died, I had nothing. A scratch in the ground, and even that was closing as I was forgotten by everyone but you. I was on the edge of being forced out altogether when the Empty Wind appeared. He told me you’d sent him, which was good, because given his face, I never would have—”
“Wait, face?” Marci said. “Ghost has a face?”
“A horrible one,” her father said with a shudder. “But what else could he have? He’s the embodiment of humanity’s greatest fear.”
She scowled. “He’s not that bad. There’s worse things than death.”
“There are,” he agreed. “And the Empty Wind is one of them. To die is terrifying, but as you’ve seen for yourself, it doesn’t mean all is lost. If we are remembered, some part of us will always remain. To be forgotten, though, to have all proof of your life vanish from the Earth, like you never were at all…” He shook his head. “That is the end, Marcivale. That is oblivion, death beyond death.”
“You make him sound like a villain,” Marci said stubbornly. “He’s not evil!”
“I never said he was,” Aldo replied. “I’m just telling you what he is. It’s a definition, not a judgment, though for most people, I imagine that’s a moot point. The proof of our insignificance is never welcome, which means the Empty Wind isn’t, either. That’s why he hides his face. He doesn’t want you to be afraid of him.”
“I wouldn’t be afraid,” Marci said stubbornly. “I’ve never feared Ghost.” It was a big part of why he’d trusted her, but her father just kept shaking his head.
“You would,” he said stubbornly. “You wouldn’t want to, but if you saw him as the dead do, you would be afraid. Not because you’re not brave—you’re the bravest person I know—but immortal or mortal, no one wants to be forgotten.”
Marci still wasn’t convinced. “If he’s so scary, why did you go with him? Was it only because of me?”
“That helped,” Aldo said. “But to be honest, I took his offer because I had no choice. By the time he came to me, your memories were the only thing holding my death together. I was on my back in a shallow grave, face to face with that.” He glanced at the undulating darkness with fear in his eyes, but Marci didn’t understand.
“It’s just magic,” she said. “Potent stuff, sure, but we’re mages. This is what we do.”
“It’s what we did,” he said. “When we had physical bodies to shield us. We don’t have that luxury here, and as you can feel for yourself, that is not the same magic we worked.”
“I can tell it’s more dangerous,” she agreed. “But I’ve tapped straight into dragons. I’m sure I can handle whatever that is.”
“No, you can’t,” he said, frustrated. “I keep telling you, we’re sheltered here. What we’re looking at is just a glimpse, a pinprick in the floor of the Sea of Magic. All the magic in the world—the stuff that poured in the night of the return and whatever extra that’s come in since—is sitting directly on top of us. Even if you still had your living physical body to help shield you, the power up there could tear you to pieces. As you are now, a naked soul, just touching it would be enough to burn you away completely.”
“Then how do I get out?” she asked. “You said I’d have to leave my death to go back to Ghost, but how is that possible if touching that stuff can kill me? You know, again.”
“It’s not,” her father said. “Not if you’re alone. If you’re going to leave this place, you need a spirit’s help. This is their realm. They’re sentient magic, which means they can move freely through the flows. If you belong to one, he can protect you, but while the Empty Wind acknowledges you as his master, he can’t claim you because you are remembered. That puts you outside of his domain, which means not only can he not protect you from the magic, he can’t even find you.”
Ghost had said something similar when she’d first arrived, but Marci didn’t understand. “Can’t he just come to my death?”
“Your death is a tiny speck at the bottom of a black, endless sea,” Aldo reminded her. “Even if he knew exactly where to go, there’s a good chance you could be burned to nothing just from passing through that hole to reach him. I know you’re determined, Marci, but there’s a difference between a hard path and an impossible one, and I fear you’ve been led down the latter.”
“It can’t be impossible,” Marci said stubbornly. “If nothing else, the fact that Amelia’s here proves that I have a solid chance. She’d never stake her life on an impossible bet.”
“Absolutely not,” Amelia agreed. “I don’t do long odds on something this important. I’ll have you know Bob gave us a solid fifty-fifty.”
Marci almost choked. “Fifty-fifty? As in fifty percent chance of death?”
“You’re already dead,” Amelia reminded her. “But why are you upset? Those are great odds.”
“Not when it comes to my life!” Marci cried. “That’s a coin flip!”
“Exactly,” the drago
n said. “You have a heads-or-tails shot at something that should, as your father just pointed out, be impossible. That’s pretty miraculous, I think.”
Marci dropped her head with a groan. That was not the answer she’d been hoping for when she’d appealed to Amelia. In the end, though, she supposed it didn’t change anything.
“I appreciate you telling me the truth,” she told her father. “I understand escape is not guaranteed, but what alternative do I have? Sit around in here forever?”
Aldo smiled. “Would that be so bad?”
“Yes,” she said, appalled this was even a question. “Death is not an option.”
“Why not?” he asked. “You said yourself there are worse things than death, and your death is far better than most. I’ve never met your Julius, but going by your memories, he doesn’t seem like the type who’d forget. Even if he finds someone else to love, he’ll treasure your memory all his life. His dragon life. Given the fuzzy nature of time on this side, that means you could stay here in safety effectively forever. Best of all, you’ll have company. Normally, humans are as alone in their deaths as they were in their own heads, but Ghost broke the rules when he sent me here, and you brought Amelia. You have safety, company, and an entire world to remake as you see fit. I know it’s not what you died for, but your death is a paradise by all standards, and paradise isn’t something to be casually thrown away.”
There was a deep truth to those words. From the moment she’d first opened her eyes, Marci had never thought of this place as anything but temporary, another trap to wiggle out of. Now, though, she looked down from the roof and actually let herself imagine what it might be like to live here. Amelia would balk, of course, but her father would be happy. Even when they’d gotten on each other’s last nerves, she and her dad had always been a good team. They could be one again, working together in her attic workshop. She had tons of experiments to finish, far less dangerous ones than the journey that had brought her here. With enough time, she might even be able to teach her father proper methodology. Mostly importantly, though, they’d be together, and her father wouldn’t have to go back to the Empty Wind.
