I blink. Another night of complete exhaustion. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the surgical knife in my shaking hand. No one sees my pain. There is no one to help me carry the burden of my loss. I’ve never known my father, and my mother, the high priestess, is too busy being there for everyone else to see how I’m hanging by a thread. Deliia’s death was expected. I’m supposed to be fine.
Pulling my nightgown up above my waist, I begin to cut into the delicate skin on the insides of my thighs. The physical pain takes the emotional pain away for a blissful moment.
I blink. Years have passed, but I’m still pressing myself to my limits. I’m still exhausted. I’m still inflicting physical pain upon myself to deal with the emotional pain. But no matter what I do, I cannot escape the hollowness that consumes me from within. Sleep, once a struggle, now offers sweet relief, making it increasingly difficult to rise each morning. My goal—to be the best healer the world has ever witnessed—is the only force strong enough to pull me from my bed each day. No one will die on my watch.
I blink. I’m not moving anymore. I’m curled up in bed as a robed man enters and kneels by my side. He pulls back his hood, revealing a familiar face. Ero.
“You are not alone,” he whispers over and over as he strokes my hair. “I am so, so sorry, Seniia. If I had known... Why did you not write, little serpent?”
I hear his words, but all I can do is stare up at the ceiling.
I blink. Every day he is there. Every day he shares of his wisdom and reminds me to live. To choose life over death. He brings me the letter Deliia wrote, her message forgotten in my despair. Deliia didn’t want me to live my life in pain. Deliia wanted me to live for both of us. I smile.
I blink. It is night, and I’m sitting outside the temple with Ero, gazing at the stars. I can feel a buzz of power under my skin now—a connection to everything surrounding me, as if invisible threads connect me to the waters, the wind, the earth, and fire. Ero gestures with his staff toward the soul stars twinkling in the night sky, drawing patterns on the dark canvas with his staff.
“You will find family again,” he says, and through Seniia’s memory, I know he is reading the stars. “Your anam.” He smiles at me, and I throw my arms around his neck.
“Thank you, Ealdorman.” I rest my head on his shoulder, and he chuckles, patting me on the head.
“Mind you, I almost forgot. Hold this for me, will you?” He hands me his small bag of nuts, then scurries down the path behind the temple. A moment later, he’s back, carrying a box. He hands it to me.
The box reveals a flurry of white feathers, and beneath them are two dark eyes that never waver.
I blink, and I’m back with Seniia, seated at the edge of the Arc, warm tears streaming down both of our cheeks. I pull her into a tight embrace. No, being vulnerable was not being weak at all. It took real courage. What it must have cost her to relive all those memories.
“I’ve learned that we won’t always find answers, closure, or compensation for the hurt we endure,” she says as she holds me tight. Her hands, warm and firm, rest on my shoulders as she leans back, her eyes meeting mine. “Sometimes, we simply must breathe, make peace with ourselves, and move forward.”
Tears continue to stream down my face as I nod. Seniia’s raw vulnerability has unlocked a flood of emotion. All the hurt and pain I’ve suppressed for so long pours out. Her gentle support is a weight lifted, and for the first time, I feel safe enough to reveal how truly lost and broken I feel.
An unexpected sob escapes me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I fight back the tears, but Seniia pulls me into a firm embrace.
“Release it,” she whispers. “Pushing emotions down—repressing them—will only make it worse. You have tofeelyour emotions, Laïna. Let them travelthroughyou so you can release them.”
Despite my best efforts, I can now no longer hold back the tears. I’ve never been cared for by anyone, but Seniia holds me in a comforting embrace as I allow my past to pour out of me. Anger, hurt, and betrayal wash over me, nearly suffocating me in their intensity. My body convulses, and for an eternal moment, it feels as if I will not be able to breathe through the pain.
Still, Seniia doesn’t yield for even a heartbeat. Steady and strong, she holds me through anger, sadness, and despair. Then, amidst the overwhelming pain and anguish threatening to consume me, a surprising sense of calm arises, allowing the pain to slowly dissipate until a foreign feeling emerges: Acceptance. Closely followed by...hope.
I gently push away and give Seniia a weak smile.
“Feeling better?”
I nod.
“The ealdorman of your temple,” I say, voice still raw from crying. “I met him.” I breathe deep. Sharing my feelings has left me in a mixed state of relief and vulnerability. I feel lighter, as if shackles have fallenaway, yet a profound fragility remains, a raw exposure like a bird with broken wings, unable to fly.
Seniia raises her eyebrows. “Ero?”
“Yes. I met him north in Tierra. He accompanied me down the river toward Bowen.” I glance at her. “He can read the soul stars?”
She makes a confirming sound. “He’s one of the most powerful C’elen alive, a bit of a legend, really. I don’t know if they are true, and he has never confirmed it to me, but some of the stories say he was there at the Darkening.”
I chuckle. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if the quirky old man is as old as the Darkening.
“He is originally from the Western Plains, like Vilder, and yes, he has the gift of divination.”
“You have to be from the Western Plains to have that gift? It’s not something all C’elen can do?”
She shakes her head. “No. And gifts such as divination or foresight are more common amongst those predominant in air. But then again, he is also an exceptional healer, and he chose the healers’ temple in Althëa over the singers’ temple in Arià, so who knows?” She shrugs. “I suspect Vilder has a gift in regard to foresight as well. His battle skills sure suggest as much. Not that he’ll share that information with me.” She pouts, brushing a strand of pink hair from her face.
