He stares at my outstretched fingers with kindling fury. “You can’t lift me,” he argues. “I’m too heavy. Now get back up the tree!”
“I can try.” Wildlife flee across the forest floor. A flock of birds explodes skyward, their caws of distress soon muffled by the impending roar. “Hurry!”
“I will not be responsible for your death,” he snarls. “Listen to me—”
“No,youlisten to me,” I hiss with a deranged flash of teeth. “I’m not leaving you. You either take my hand, or we stay as we are. Choose.” My heart quivers. My legs have all but liquified, each massive tremor draining their strength. Live together, die together, so long as I am not alone.
Whatever emotion clouds the East Wind’s expression—horror, fury—it spurs him to grab hold.
By the Mother, he’s heavy. I heave, my back screaming in agony. Something pops in my wounded shoulder, and I yelp, my grip loosening.
Eurus leans against the trunk, panting. His wings dangle from his back like pieces of a corpse. And all around, the air is alive, a great roar dousing all thought. “Eurus, you need to climb.Now.”
As I tighten my fingers around his hand, the flood breaches the undergrowth. Trees collapse, shatter into a thousand fragments. Then the wave slams into our tree.
I scream. Water slaps my face, demanding I yield. I choke, inhale liquid, yet it passes, and I blink to clear my vision. The tree bends, creaking ominously, as the force of the flood threatens to yank its roots from the soil.
All the while, the current streams over branches, under leaves. It swarms Eurus’ waist—higher, to his chest. My eyes widen as the surface creeps upward, nearing his neck. My bone-breaking grip is all that connects me to Eurus.
Another drag of the tide, and my shoulder joint ignites with pain.Mother, grant me bones of iron.I bite the inside of my cheek, clinging to the branch with all my strength. Felled trees drift by as though they are mere twigs in a child’s pond.
Suddenly, the water slips between our fingers, and his grip loosens. I dig in my nails as the East Wind’s eyes meet mine.
“Don’t do it,” I cry.
“It’s all right, bird,” he soothes, and I have never heard a more feeble lie. He knows, and I know. If he continues to hold on, we will both be ripped from the tree.
I stare down at his face, all the more beautiful for its imperfections. Why do I only recognize the truth when it is far too late?
“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” I choke out. And whatwould have been? In an ideal world, forgiveness, peace, a shared life. But I see what will follow the moment Eurus releases his hold. The weight of his wings will drag him down, hold him beneath the surface until his lungs fill with water. “Hold on. Just for a little while longer.”
A shudder runs down his arm and into mine. “I haven’t the strength, bird. This isn’t your fate, you hear me? Your fate is to live.”
“As is yours!” A sob cracks my sternum in two. “Please, just…”
He lets go.
“Eurus!”
The swollen waters suck him down. He slams into a tree and is swept downstream.
I scream as the trunk lurches, roots releasing their hold on the earth.No.A sharp keen wells behind my clenched teeth. I scan the churning water, my eyes so choked with tears I cannot distinguish his shape from the forest. Eurus will survive. Hemust.
On the flood sweeps, and still on. Though my unstable shelter bows against the rushing water, I keep my eyes open. Now is not the time to collapse. I am alive, which means there is still much to do. Eventually, the flood will move on, and when it does, I will follow its path of destruction. I will not stop until the East Wind is found.
Because he and I were not destined to die. We were destined to live. Not survive—live.And maybe… maybe our fates are not separate, as I had initially believed. Maybe they are, in fact, intertwined.
After a time, I realize the water level is dropping. Its rush has slowed.
The moment the flood has eased into a trickle, I clamber down the listing tree, feet sinking into the sodden earth. Debris litters the forest floor. The sun punches through countless new breaks in the wood where trees had once stood. My breath stirs the still air.
From afar, there comes a snap, followed by the crash of a collapsing branch. Then this: the low tolling of the bell.
With each discordant clang, my stomach drops lower, hips to knees to feet to ground. The water took my father, but he was mortal. The East Wind would not go quietly. Foolish of me, to think he would not go at all.
I race in the direction I saw Eurus vanish. In addition to the wooden fragments, numerous dead animals litter the ground. Ahead, I spot something. I gasp, quickening my pace, then slow upon recognizing its shape.
The last of the Fates, red hair strewn about like cobwebs, neck broken.
