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As the sun lowered in the sky, and the busy hustle and bustle of the market began to die down, Joe’s words continued to repeat in my mind. I wondered what it would be like to feel that type of love for someone. One that was forgiving, sturdy, and certain. Something so deeply sowed, it lasted a lifetime—even longer than that.
My thoughts turned to Von and I wondered when he was coming back.
After the market, I returned to the cottage. Ezra was nowhere to be found. Knowing her hokey pokey patterns, I figured she must have gone out to collect more herbs or rocks or something.
I started a fire in the fireplace, utilizing the natural way and not my Fire Curse—an anomaly I had yet to practice with—not that I felt like training lately.
When the fire reached a steady, consistent flame, I brought in some more split logs. I didn’t have it in me to chop any wood, even though that was a task that desperately needed to be done. Winter was well on her merry, frigid way. But chopping wood, that had been Kaleb’s job, not mine, and if I were to do it, it seemed like it would make things more . . . finalized. And I wasn’t ready for that. So, I turned my sights on the heaping pile of beets and started the tedious process of making borscht.
When it was done and piping hot, I sat and ate and wondered what I was going to do with the rest of the beets. Deciding I’d make them tomorrow’s problem, I put them in the cellar. After, I cleaned up my mess and then collapsed on the settee, my body tired from the length of the day.
The cottage was quiet.
And where I once would have taken solace in the quiet, now, I found it painful. Lonely. Suddenly, my bones were not so weary anymore, and sitting here alone was the last place I wanted to be.
My toes squished into the muddy bottom of the lake as I padded along the bank, the water bathing my ankles. I traced the crisp blue outline as it stretched before me. It formed a stark silhouette against the autumn-painted ridge of the bank, covered with tall switchgrass, the wispy, seeded pods swaying under the command of the playful breeze. Their seeds would be scattered by the wind, ready to grow next spring.
Here, the world was quiet, other than the faintest whisper of hummingbird wings, reminding me of the first time I heard the sound, just before Arkyn threw me into the Endless Mist. How had I never heard it before?
My gaze shifted to the never-ending wall of black fog—the Endless Mist. I had never bothered to think much of it before. I had never seen the point in doing so. It was there, and I was here. We were two separate things. But that was then, before everything happened, and now, I found myself feeling . . . explorative.
Leaving the cusp of the cool waters with my shoes in one hand, I walked on a steady incline, towards the Endless Mist. Rocks, polished by friction and time, dug into the soles of my feet as I padded over the rocky ground, through the sparse, crunchy grass.
I didn’t realize how much I needed this, to be back here, in this familiar place. Second to the cottage, this lake was my home. During my younger years, when my Curse was unstable, this was where I would come. The lake safeguarded my deepest secret, embraced it when I needed to let it out. And now, with the loss of my brother, I needed it more than ever.
I breathed in deeply, filling my lungs with crisp lake air.
It took me about thirty, maybe thirty-five minutes to reach the Endless Mist, the metallic trill of fluttering wings growing louder the closer I got. I craned my neck, looking up and up and up. It reached to the sky, to the beyond. It was like a massive black axe had swung down and severed Edenvale from the outside world.
It hummed in my ears, a steady enchantment, calling me to it. Like a bee drawn to honey, my hesitant fingers uncurled, flexing straight as I reached out.
A hand, painted in shadow, formed from the Mist and reached for mine.
I did not know why, but I did not fear it.
When our hands touched, ethereal voices echoed, all of them speaking to me. “Who are you?” they asked.
“I don’t know,” I whispered back.
“Come back when you do,” commanded the beautiful voices. It was the same sparkling-sweet tone I had heard before—the same voices that belonged to the woman who wore my face.
“Why?” I asked, my brows weighed down by a multitude of unanswered questions.
No answer came as the hand pulled back, returning to the Mist.
“Wait!” I tried to grab hold of the hand made of shadow, but my fingers sailed straight through, and the hand made of fog dissolved instantly.
I fidgeted with Kaleb’s mother’s ring. I felt lost, even more so than before.
Deciding I should head back to the cottage, I turned around, went to take my first step, but it was the immense heat that stopped me dead. The front of my body lit in an unnatural, orange-red glow.
My heart galloped in my chest, tears filling my eyes.
Below, the oaks stirred unnaturally from their slumber, jerked awake by the flames that licked and chewed their vacant branches. From here, they looked like giant torches, shoved into the ground. The blaze spread among them, jumping like a disease, from one to the next. The blue sky sputtered, choking on the heavy smoke as it clawed its way up, higher and higher. Hundreds of birds flocked to the sky, abandoning their homes, fleeing the inferno.
The forest—my forest—my home—it was on fire.
“Ezra!” I screamed, as I ran straight for the blaze.
