My hand stills.
‘You understood the meaning of a true warrior: one who fights not for glory, not for pride, but for justice. You thought you were worthless. But the world knows,your master knows, and the ones you saved will always know you are the paragon of a warrior. It was you who made me promise to smile, and even in death, I cannot forgo a promise made to my child.’
My lips clamp but Arezu needs to hear everything: my honesty andmy love. I smile then, through my tears, because she deserves more than just my sorrow.
‘I know you were afraid –so afraid– but the truth is, every mighty warrior feels fear. Because that fear gave you the Third-Stratum – a feat that warriors spend years to accomplish. But the Divine choseyoufor martyrdom.
‘I’m sorry for turning you away. For being cold. For never showing you anything but my own cruelty—’ I can no longer hold anything in.
‘I’m sorry,’ I suddenly gasp and repeat it. Again and again. I have never felt this. I do not recall a time I wept like this. ‘I’m so sorry. For my mistakes that have killed you. For causing your demise. For being afraid.For only being a master when I could have been a mother. Arezu, you and my pupils, you were my first chosen loves, albeit unknowingly. No one ordered me, no one cursed it upon me.I chose. I am sorry I never treasured it the way I should have. I was selfish. But you taught me more than any teacher. You were a gift andI’m sorry I didn’t see it.’
And then I’m sobbing as I think back to the last day in Little Paradise. With the promise of a new dawn, it was the first time my stiffened lips had opened and I was brave enough to tell this child the hopes of my heart. So, I give her one more lie.
‘We promised,’ I cry, ‘to spoil ourselves with food. If we cannot in this life, then by the Divine, in Paradise, you and I will reunite. I promised to tell you my folktales. I couldn’t do it then, but I could do it before the Heavens. Like how I hold you now: speaking with the tongue of a folkteller, hoping the blessings of an uma find you.’
I bend and kiss her temple and blow my prayer upon her. I repeat that she is safe. By the Divine, she is.
It’s said that in my religion – whose mercy I’m unworthy of – that the ones who don’t accept the consequences of faith will try to exploit its benefits for worldly gain, andthatis the measure of a corrupt person, while Believers readily accept consequences in this life, so in the hereafter, they reap the light stretching toward them.
The Believers feel true, eternal peace. They feel nur.
Nur is the path to revelation; it’s accepting suffering in return for light. But today, it’s a light I could never reach.
It reminds me I have always been alone. And I have never tried to change that.
No-Name crouches beside us. ‘What will you do?’
Heavenly power is fickle, with as many variables as a complex mathematical equation. Eajiz must have faith in the Divine and, henceforth, the Heavens; we should strive toward morally righteous intentions, then action. But time has run out.
‘I will use the Gates technique to summon a Heavenly Bird, even at the cost of my Heavenly Contract,’ I whisper.
I can only glare at Heaven. The stars stare down, each chasm between their lights appearing small but, in reality, infinite in scope. Love, I see, is all the withering darkness between the stars, small in appearance but limitless in experience. And if it’s so far away, if it’s so hard to grasp on to, then love was not for me to begin with.
‘With Arezu gone, you need me,’ No-Name says. ‘I will not leave you.’
It isn’t until I hear Rasha’s melancholycaw, then soft footsteps, that I am roused from my mourning. The Sepahbad gazes down at Arezu’s corpse. To my surprise, there is a darkening from grief, if only for a moment. He arrived with reinforcements following a campaign at the other Khor townships.
Arezu’s words return.A warrior saved me... I do not see the warrior often but sometimes, when they return, they greet me with kahvah and rose faloodeh.
‘It was you.’ Another twist of fate, that this child has somehow brought two warriors on opposing sides together in brief respite.
‘Arezu?’ he simply asks. I manage a nod. He gestures to the path. ‘A walk?’
The skies rumble as rain drizzles lightly on to the grasslands.
With Arezu still in my arms, I stand and he places a light finger on my shoulder. I swallow my uneasiness. It’s his affinity, to ensure no rain touches us as he steers me in the direction of the gravediggers – slowly -to give us time.
During this, I explain Arezu’s death.
When I finish, he nods slowly. ‘Our curse as an Eajiz is to bear a world of sorrow. The more pain we suffer, the more Heavenly bonds we gain. Some murder their own loved ones to access more Heavenly Energy – but they fail to realise that true pain is sacrifice. That is why the warriors, on the brink of martyrdom, are able to access large amounts of Heavenly Energy. And Arezu’s martyrdom... was accepted.’ Then he asks a question. ‘Did she tell you about her pazktab recruitment?’
My heart deflates. ‘She’d begged a warrior to take her to Za’skar.’
He turns, blocking my view of the gravediggers. ‘Nine years ago, a raid was instigated in Khor. In one of the homes I entered, Arezu was surrounded by corpses. Her family had perished but she survived. Her affinity was triggered after her brother and uma were tortured before her.’ His lips turn up, bitterly. ‘She was eight years old.’
I pause, stunned. ‘She said only that her brother died.’ Desperation weaves into my words. ‘How can her family be dead? She – she told me they are plant-dyers.’
‘Were,’ he corrects. ‘They were those things.’
