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When we were finished, we stood back to take stock of the work we had done, standing in silence together.
Amon manifested a smooth flat obsidian stone with a shining surface and placed it down in front of the plot. With another wave of his hand, I watched as he called the stone to carve out an inscription into itself.
‘These sunflowers were planted in memory of Clairafine ‘Clair’ Fisher. Survived by her husband Jeremy and her daughter Raven.’
His face was somber, and a muscle in his jaw pulsed. I remembered that he had called her Clairafine, the day he had come to save us on the docks.
“Did you know her?”
He glanced at me. I watched his throat bob, and he cleared his voice before speaking.
“I did. That is a story for another day. Would you like to say a few words?” He asked me. I thought for a moment. What could I possibly say, that would do Clair justice?
Finally, I dropped to my knees before the stone Amon had carved for her and rested my hand on the face of the marker. I allowed my fingers to trace the letters of her name.
“Mom,” I began. The moment I said the word, I felt my throat close up, and I struggled to compose myself so that I could continue.
“I wish you were here,” I whispered, my shoulders shaking. “I know, now, that I was not born in the world you raised me in.”
I had always existed as a drop of soap in a pool of oil during my time in the human world. I remembered the countless days coming home from school, hurt, and crying because the other kids at school would torment me, or refuse to sit near me.
At times it had been unbearably lonely. I had grown up to be impossibly angry. But I had always come home to Clair, and she had always gathered me up in her arms and wiped away my tears. She had always told me that I was strong and that none of those other kids had even one drop of what I had inside me.
A mean voice in my head had always written her words off as pandering. Of course, she would say those things. She’s your mother. Those things couldn’t possibly be true.
Now I knew that she had meant it. The reason the other kids had run from me, was because they could sense the unchecked power that dwelled within me. The power that Clair had always known was there. She had never run from me. She had always run towards me. Holding out her arms, to catch me each time I fell.
I squeezed my eyes shut, as hot tears slid down my cheeks. My fingers gripped the surface of the stone marker, and I took a deep breath.
“You told me, when you died, that I was a fighter. That I was the balance the world needed.” I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky. Hoping that wherever her spirit was, she could hear me now.
“You were right. I am a fighter. I will not stop fighting until I fix this. I will not stop until Jeremy is safe. I will fight, with every last ounce of strength I have, to free this world and protect the world you raised me in. I will make you proud.” I promised fiercely.
As my promise hung around us, the wind slipped past me, brushing back my hair. I imagined that it wasn’t the wind, but Clair, letting me know that she had heard me and expected nothing less from me, her daughter. Whom she had always told was strong, fearless, and brave.
I would not let her down.
31
When we were done, Amon magicked our clothes clean before leading the way back into the castle.
“Let’s check on the team,” he said as he steered me back into the main hall of the West Wing. I followed him down a curving flight of stone stairs covered in thick phthalo green carpet that led to the throne room.
Two thrones sat in the middle, on a raised dais. They were made of stone, much like the rest of the castle, but there were emeralds embedded into the arms and across the backs. Some of the precious stones, to my amazement, were as large as my fist.
The natural light that swept in through the large windows reflected off the gemstones and cast viridian-tinted specs of light across the floor. I once again found myself in a state of awe. I imagined Amon sitting on one of the thrones, holding court, and I nearly smiled. He would make a good king.
My eyes caught another staircase that seemed to lead deeper into the volcano, away from the bright windows on the north-facing walls. The light didn’t seem to quite reach the stairs. It was almost as if the architect had intentionally designed the room so that those stairs largely went unnoticed.
“Where do those go?” I asked, pointing to the shadowy staircase tucked discreetly into the back of the room.
“To the dungeons,” Amon said flatly. I almost laughed, until I caught the look on his face. He was serious. I don’t know why it surprised me that there were dungeons. When he had first told me he would be taking me across The Veil, I had imagined that he would throw me in one.
“Do you… do you use them often?” I asked, his eyes flashed.
“Yes.”
Amon continued to lead me away from the shadowy staircase, but I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder one last time.
