“No, no, you remember. Like … like when you floated down the river on the wooden boat with Anya. You visited the big stone triangles. Remember that?”
His lip quivers. “The Pyramids. We went there a few weeks after we met. Then we sailed down the Nile …”
“Yes, yes!” I urge and pat his chest again. “And the two of you trekked through a great jungle and startled a huge spotted cat.” The memories of his life, gifted to me by Clio, flood my mind, as real as if they were my own.
“I was working a dig in the Amazon. Thought that jaguar would be the end of us.”
“Do you feel her?” I ask.
He closes his eyes and nods. “I think so.”
“And the wooden house in the woods? Do you remember that?”
“Our cottage in Orca Cove. I took her to the place I was born, and she said she wanted to raise our daughter there.”
I bring his hands to my lips. “You did. You raised the most amazing, wonderful woman in the world. You’ve got to tell Anya that. You’ve got to tell her how good her daughter is. How brilliant and funny and beautiful. Can you do it, George?”
George grits his teeth and attempts to stand. But he has no strength anymore. He can’t raise himself up. “I c-can’t …”
“Yes, you can,” I growl then lace my arms underneath him. With a mighty thrust, I heave George over my shoulders and stagger to my feet. He’s no small man, but I promised I’d carry him if I had to. I’m keeping that promise.
“Show me the way,” I breathe.
There’s a beat of silence, and I’m afraid he’s lost consciousness. Then: “Left,” George says assuredly.
So left we go.
“Follow along this wall then take a right.”
“Straight past the turns to the end of the chamber. Take the leftmost passage.”
“Keep on this path.”
I follow each of his instructions, occasionally giving him a shake or pinching his leg. “Stay with me, George.”
My shoulders ache from George’s weight, but I keep myself in fae form. I don’t want my beast to startle George when he’s drifting in and out of the present and the past.
Slowly, the maze begins to change. The purple stone shifts to a dark jade. Brilliant scars of emerald light cut beneath the earth, reminding me of the walls of the Chasm.
“There are no more turns,” George breathes. “Just keep going.”
The sharp turns have given way to a circular pathway. I realize we’re walking around a spiral. We’re almost at the end.
A high-pitched cackle rattles the air. I steady myself and reposition George over my shoulders.
I knew there would be one more visit.
Ahead, the walls shift into brilliant emerald spires that connect with a jeweled archway. A small figure sits atop the keystone, swinging her legs through the air.
“One more Fate to speak with, George, then we’re there,” I murmur to him.
George doesn’t respond.
The figure leaps off the keystone, hanging on to it with only her hands, then swings her body in a giant arc, somersaulting down to the ground.
“We’ve seen your sisters already, Melinora. We need no more gifts,” I call as she runs forward.
She’s short and slight, moving clumsily as if there are no bones within her. Perhaps that is true. Her skin appears made of straw, like a little doll woven by a fireplace. Two braids of multicolored yarn form her hair. Her eyes are big black buttons, and stitches hold her mouth in a permanent smile.
