Page 131 of Divine Oaths

“Sianna,” Kasem said. “Please stay with me, love. Say something. Don’t sleep. Don’t leave.”

But I couldn’t. My strength was gone.

Slowly, slowly, the world faded, and in its place was silence, forevermore.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

That which does not burn

I KNEW I WAS DEAD the moment I woke in the garden. All around me, dying roots and decay lay in wait. I recognized shrubs that I’d once called skeletons. And there on a bench, a single moth was perched.

As it fluttered through the air, the sound of its wings was a soft, steady heartbeat, a whisper of voices from another realm. Along its path, it left a glittering trail of silver-and-gold tendrils that led to a small pond that had nearly dried up.

I was at Westfield. In the courtyard behind the woodshop. The silence here was aching, like a memory lost to time. I moved toward the bench, and my hem caught on a mangled root. I was wearing what I had been in when I’d died: the black dress with the corset top, my hair styled as it had been that night, my curls framing my face, the front braided into cornrows. This had been meant for the vigil. Instead, I would be wearing it to my own funeral. Not that anyone would think to plan a service for me. Except, perhaps, for Aunt Louisa. Jojo too, of course. And Kasem. Would he miss me? Would he mourn me now that I was gone?

My heart ached. Tears fell; bitter, hopeless. The droplets floated within the remains of the pond like a slow, hovering stream of starlight, as if gravity didn’t exist here.

On my hands, the gloves I wore showed the burn marks on my fingertips. I pulled them off, thinking of Kasem and how he’d bartered for them for me. How he’d slipped them onto my fingertips once, a shy glint in his eyes, a gentle smile on his lips.

Kasem. I would never see him again. Would I?

I looked around at the death that surrounded me. Perhaps, even if I was gone, I could make something of my new home. I had my powers. I could feel them churning in my mind and tingling against my fingertips. I would make death my home. I would dust away the cobwebs here, sweep the corners, polish the surfaces, and find comfort, whatever that might look like.

I started with a wilted flower at my feet. With my bare palms, I cupped the roots. Their memories were long and fast, spanning centuries to before a building had even existed here, before people had even roamed the earth. Time slipped through my fingers, gathered in my palms, and gradually, the bud sprouted from seeds.

I spent hours going from one corner of the garden to the next, bleeding life into the foliage as time passed. Eventually, all that remained was the pond. I dug my feet into the dirt, burrowed my hands into the soil, which was no longer drying and cracked, but soft and warm from all the plants I’d brought back to life. Again, I channeled backward in time, back to when rainfall and irrigation had made the water source here rippling with life.

Water began to fill the pond, and as it did, I saw my reflection and those of others beyond me. First Vivian, and then a silver alligator that morphed into a young man, a young Melvin. He’d been a wraith too, and now he was free.

Melvin’s eyes were bright, joyful, and free from the rage he’d been bound to as a wraith. Vivian and he held hands, a tender smile shared between them.

Now all of the spirits trapped at Westfield could move on to the other side. They emerged from within the pond, climbing to the surface, laughing, smiling, light gleaming around them as they stepped into the garden and outside to the exit, where a bright golden light would take them to rest. I hadn’t seen it earlier as I gardened, but now I wondered if I could follow them there too.

There were hundreds of them, all trapped here. Students, and faculty, and staff, all of whom had been killed because of General Winhall and his curse.

Vivian smiled at me, and Melvin held her hand as they approached the light on the other side of the door.

“You helped save my family,” Melvin said. “We are forever in debt to each other.”

“No,” I said. “It’s not a debt to be repaid. Never that.”

“Well, thank you, nonetheless,” Vivian said. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” I said. “But we’ll see each other soon, I figure.”

She frowned and shook her head.

“No,” she said. “Not yet. There’s life in you.”

They walked to the other side, and as they disappeared, more spirits emerged from the pond. Most I didn’t recognize. But there they were, among the passing souls—faces I’d never thought I’d see again. My mother, my father, untouched from the night the fire had taken them.

As they walked past me, my mother placed her arm on my shoulder and my father did too. Their touch was just as I remembered it: nervous, protective, gentle yet fierce.

When I spoke, my voice trembled.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s my fault you’ve been trapped here all these years.”

“Not your fault,” my father said.