CHAPTER 46
“Yes, it’s very beautiful,” I whispered, reluctant to meet Alma’s stare.
“Sit, sit, come, let’s eat. You must be starving,” Alma said, directing her palm towards the table. Blake helped his mother as she prepared us each a warm bowl of fish-and-vegetable broth.
I tried to be civil, but my intrigue edged towards impatience.
“How…? How is it possible that we were expecting no more than a barren wasteland but instead came to all of this?”
“Well, somebody is quick with their questions,” Alma replied, filling her spoon. “How’s the soup?”
“I’m sorry.” I exhaled. “It’s delicious. And thank you, for your hospitality. It’s just…we were certainly not expecting this. Houses, trees, produce, animals. And I see that you even have ale.”
“Well, the ale is made here on the island by Herman. He ferments barley.”
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“Ten years, nine months, and twenty-one days,” Alma replied, her face hollowed, her eyes lost in thought. Blake stared at her with concern.
“That’s exactly how long it’s been since the beheading,” Marshen commented, summoning Alma back to her reality.
“So you were on this island when it all happened. Later trapped here without your wielding abilities,” I added.
“No,” Alma replied, shaking her head. Marshen and I furrowed our brows, waiting intently for her to go on. “We came hereafterwe lost our powers. After our queen and princess were beheaded and burned right in front of our faces.”
So it was all true, then—I was hearing the story from a direct source, and it played out just as I had heard it a hundred times before. Just as Martin had vividly described it by a campfire.
Water lined Alma’s eyes but she continued. “A witch was responsible for our safe passage here. She used her powers to help us cross the Depths. She assured us that Mistgeil Island was shrouded, that it appeared as a barren land from above. Silent to others. She promised us that she would inform Queen Akaterina about us, then return here. We waited for her, for them, but they never came. Either her words never reached their ears or Silch just decided to abandon us. Weeks turned into months, months into years. Whenever we saw a bird soaring above us, we often wondered if it was truly an animal or if it was a Fae shifter, coming to our rescue. Our waves and shouts were useless…our hope withered in time. You’re our very first visitors.”
I let her heavy words settle, my mind processing all that she’d said.
“A witch?” I murmured. “What was a witch doing in Ilma?” I shifted my head, letting my eyes wander over the four walls that enclosed us. “This was the witch’s home, wasn’t it? And who was she? Why did she protect you?”
“You ask too many questions, young lady,” Alma said, letting out a long sigh. “But I’ll answer them. Story goes that many years ago, a witch appeared in Nerithia. She was barely alive—was on her two knees when she was carried into the throne room before Queen Mirana, Thalassa bless her soul. Our people, those who managed to glimpse her, screamed for her drowning. Others hid, locking their doors and windows with shaking hands. Butwhat Mirana saw was a poor, desperate woman. The witch, Ayla Ikubib, begged our queen for asylum, for protection.”
Ikubib. The same last name as the witch I’d read about inMemoirs of a Dark Woman.
“Mirana was a good-hearted woman, but a careful one, too. Cautious. She offered Ayla asylum on Mistgeil Island, a barren land, away from the people of her Water kingdom. But the protection Mirana offered came with a price—a guarantee. Ayla accepted the oath of tears and swore on her soul to always protect and to never betray the people of Ilma. She lived here, in this very hut. She turned a barren land into a fertile one and kept the whole island concealed. When we first arrived here, the small wooden huts, the sheep pens, the animals, everything was already here. She even left us a supply of iron and clothing material, as if our arrival was expected. We built more houses over the years to better accommodate our people.”
“And so the witch that promised to protect the people of Ilma brought you here, hundreds of you?” I clarified, still trying to set the pieces together.
“It’s not that many people, Delia. We were in the millions—humans, Nymphs, Water Wielders. Only six hundred crossed the Depths, others preferred to burn in Pyrona’s flames rather than follow a path led by a witch. But my husband trusted Ayla and so we trusted her. She kept one of her promises, yes, but for Thalassa’s sake, we were just left here. Forgotten. Powerless. Trapped.” The desperation in her tone felt palpable.
“Now it’s time foryouto answer questions. We don’t know what happened to our Land after the attack,” Blake said, finally speaking the words he had been impatiently holding, like a pulled arrow poised at the beckoning edge of release.
Marshen answered. “After the attack, the Fire King sent letters to every Land in Lyrantheia. If one was sent to Rih, nobody knows. The letters proposed a peace treaty. Whatwas written and signed basically meant,Stand down and we promise not to burn you, try something against us and you will suffer the same fate as the Ilmans.”
“Silch must have aided; they must have fought for our people. Us Hydrans, we are one people,” Alma mumbled, nodding her head as if to reassure herself that what she was saying was indeed true.
Marshen was once more the bearer of bad news. “Unfortunately, King Rynn and Queen Akaterina signed the peace treaty, just as the Earthens and the Sijaris did.”
“What about the people? Our people!” Alma pleaded, her voice trembling. Her eyes welled up with hurt. “What happened to them? King Arden made a Fire’s Promise to our queen—he couldn’t have burned them all, right?”
Blake roared, slamming his clenched fists against the tabletop. The bowls and glasses rattled. Then he struck his bowl with the back of his arm, sending it flying across the room, its ceramic shattering against the stony wall. His mother found no need to discipline him. I couldn’t blame her.
Marshen continued, his voice low, “No, the burning stopped, the massacre stopped, but the Fire King took the people of Ilma onto his ships and sailed to Naar. The Water Priestesses, too. All held as slave-hostages. He still uses them as leverage, threatening to kill them all if any one of the Lands were to retaliate.” Alma sobbed, covering her mouth.
Then I added, in the lowest voice possible, “The Naaris destroyed the main waterways. It left us Earthens dry and thirsty. Crimes are on the rise. The whole system is broken.”
