“Welcome to Caius.” She spread her arms, gesturing to the valley before them.
Nestled between the basalt mountains were winding roads and obsidian stone houses. Wisteria trees lined the stream that was parted down the middle. Marigold and plum wept across the sky between the straw-like branches.
“Come along now.” Nathaira waved for him to follow as she started down the hilltop.
Finnian was amazed that Cassian did not name it theValley of Celebration, or something else so simple-minded.
His feet felt heavy as he lagged behind the goddess. Caius was the last place he wished to go. Reuniting with old friends and lovers he’d let go of once already. He did not wish to resurface the ache of loss. To see their faces, hear their laughter, burdened by heartbreak yet again.
They strolled down the dirt road. A knot gripped his stomach with each step.
The souls here were livelier than the ones in the Lavender Fields. They carried themselves lightly and with a calm energy. The passersby appeared just like any other villagers in the Mortal Land, with their baskets resting on the crook of their elbows. Children frolicked in the River, their pants rolled up to their ankles. At the corners of the homes were bloomed irises and poppies.
Mixed in with the souls were deities of Death, known as the Errai. All of Death’s lineage worked as a collective beneath their High God. Finnian could sense their chilly auras as they mingled and passed him by. They wore modern clothes rather than their usual ominous cloak and masks—even spoke to the souls in a friendly, acquainted manner. It was strangely refreshing to see them act as if they had a pulse.
Nathaira and Finnian entered a street filled with a bustling market. Ivy decorated the bark of the wisteria. Lanterns were strung between homes and vendors. As they strolled past, Finnian spotted stalls of harvested fruits and vegetables, homemade jams, marmalades, and butters. The aroma of freshly cured meats and baked bread wafted in the air.
His heart warmed, knowing if Naia were here, her cheeks would be filled like a chipmunk, exclaiming how delicious the pastries were.
Around a crackling bonfire, souls gathered at a stall, skillfully weaving and sewing with their hands. They pinned colorful stitched blankets and knitted scarves and socks along a string hanging from one wisteria branch to the next.
The souls acknowledged them with a smile and a wave.
Nathaira waved back, her hand gliding through the warm air.
Centuries of Summer Solace festivals flashed in his mind. Caius was embellished in jewel-toned ornaments, its streets radiating the collectiveness of those occupying it.
Finnian’s eyes briefly surfed over the individuals nearby, chatting, laughing, assisting one another in hanging handmade vines of eucalyptus and lavender alongside the lanterns. It was hardly close to the tropical flora and narrow roads of the village of Kaimana, its pastel, opalescent blues and moonstone structures full of villagers cowering to their ruler, but it was still all too similar.
“Am I to follow you around until my master returns?” Finnian drawled as Nathaira paused in the path to examine a stall filled with garlands.
She leaned over and inhaled a bouquet of daisies, unrushed to reply.
Finnian rolled his eyes. If it weren’t for the wretched binding spell, he could utilize his time without Cassian to roam the Land for clues.
The length of which Finnian could travel only went as far as Cassian would allow.
Nathaira sauntered a few paces from the flower stall and came to stand in front of a stone cottage. She gazed up at it. “This is where I leave you.”
Finnian watched a crowd of souls pile into the threshold, buoyant and singing loudly from inside.
“A tavern?” It came out of him in a deadpan tone.
“Yes.” Nathaira giggled.
Before he could respond with a dry remark, a head full of ginger locks caught his eye. The girl shoved her way through the traffic of those entering the tavern. She burst through them and barreled straight for him.
“FINNY!” She threw her arms around his neck. Her body was warm, solid. In his grip. After so many years without her presence, Eleanor was embracing him.
Tears stung the back of his nose as he slowly raised his arms, scared if he moved too fast, the Land would snatch her away from him.
Isla emerged from in between the people flooding through the front of the tavern, her wild curls framing her soft face, grinning at the sight of him.
A stunned laugh scuffed up his throat. Warmth flooded his chest as he beckoned her forward with a wave.
Her face lit up as she leaped and crashed into Eleanor’s back, wrapping her short arms around them tightly.
Finnian swallowed them both in a hug, one he’d gone over a century regretting never giving.
