Candor couldn’t sleep. Her body ached from the tips of her toes to each hair follicle, but she did not dare allow her eyes to close for more than a few minutes. The remainder of the second night and the last day passed quietly, punctured by the discomforting noises of humans unafraid of anything. One more visitor appeared but seemed to be content with babbling at the wall. Candor escorted her out gently.
Letti returned to sleep as the sun rose, and Thorn seemed to maintain his composure, though neither he nor Candor exchanged any words. Candor stared languidly at the door, praying for the moments to pass more quickly than they currently seemed to. She gripped her sword. Finally, finally, the last night fell, and deep orange flickered once more in the room.
“Last few hours.” Candor breathed to no one in particular. Letti had awoken once more with a howl. Candor had flinched, offered her some water, and returned to her vigil on one of the carved chairs. To keep herself awake, Candor had made it a point to walk around the room, marveling at the detail in the carvings. Each member of the family must have added something, some piece of art as they lived in this space. As Candor deduced this, a deep ache settled in her chest, and she had returned to her chair. She thought of Mo and Lola, wondered if they were still alive, and wondered for the umpteenth time if she and Letti were following the right path.
Candor sat up ramrod straight. How could I have missed this? She seethed. Eyes much too bright, Candor almost tripped over herself as she scurried around the apartment to kneel by Thorn.
“Thorn.”
“Yes.” He looked up. His eyes were dark and heavy, filled with some horrible sorrow that felt older than Candor could imagine. It was like looking into the center of a tree ring if the center could look back. She pulled herself away from that gaze. Thorn composed himself.
“You were hunting a monster.” Candor said slowly. She wanted to make sure Thorn could not escape her meaning. “When you found us, you said you were hunting a monster. You said he eluded you. You were up by our village, our village that burned. Could—” Candor swallowed. “Could the monster you were tracking have destroyed our home?”
Thorn swung his head back, so his neck was exposed and looked at the ceiling. “Ask me any other question.”
“I want the answer to this one.” Candor felt a shock run through her body, followed by acute shame. How had she not put this together?
“I do not know why he would have attacked your village.” Thorn said softly. “But somehow, I also did not know your village existed. I expected it to be a trap.”
“What is this monster?” Candor asked. Squatting, she placed her back against the wall of the tree, facing the door. This was no time to be caught unawares.
“He is something as old as I, and just as cursed. He is evil incarnate, no longer man, no longer bound by the rules of this world. He is the very thing humans both epitomize, and the reason humans are the way they are. In short, he is the very worst of what we harbor in our hearts.”
Candor blinked. “This is an unhelpful description.”
“And yet, it is the one I will give. He walks on two legs, fights with two arms, and cannot die but for a very difficult and unpleasant way.”
“Seems a bit foolish to chase after this monster man without any backup into an incredibly dangerous forest.” Candor sniffed. “Why would he have come to my village?”
“I don’t know.” Thorn did not meet Candor’s eye. “He is an agent of chaos. Perhaps he heard tell of something good and decided to destroy it.”
“That is much too convenient.” Candor poked Thorn in the side, and he jumped.
Affronted, Thorn growled. “You have your own secrets Candor. Don’t expect me—”
“Ha!” Candor mocked a chuckle. “As if I have any secrets worth telling. Once I stole a barrel of fresh berries, and Letti and I ate them all at the top of a cliff. Once I refused to kill a fish because it seemed to be talking to me. Once… Your secrets are old, Thorn. Your secrets compound when you withhold information that you suspect might be true. My secrets are not equal to yours. Yours cause pain. Mine are simply memories.”
“Is it not better to wait for fact before you start spinning truths?” Thorn retorted. “I suspect a possible truth about your family, yes, but I do not know what happened and I will not give you false—”
A small flicker of movement at the doorway forced Candor to her feet. Sword out, Candor approached the doorway, wary. No human faced her. What appeared to be a piece of fire seemed to float in the air.
Hovering, the molten light flickered, seeming to burn in the air itself. A deep, dark, bloodred, the flame hovered for a moment, then floated into the room. Its light tinged the shadowed space crimson.
“Candor.” Thorn’s voice was urgent.
Utterly mesmerized, Candor heard Thorn’s voice as if from the end of a tunnel or shouted from the heights of a cliff. It disappeared into her and did not tug at her mind. The flame seemed to be considering her; if it had eyes, Candor would have said they were looking into her soul.
“Candor!” Thorn began to untie his feet, scrambling over himself to reach the white-haired girl.
Unsure if it were she who guided her own arm, Candor reached out with her left hand. The heat from the floating flame hurt, but it did not burn her. Candor froze, unable to retract her hand, but unwilling to touch the fire itself.
In the flash of a moment, Thorn sliced his cords, the flame rushed towards Candor, and Letti screamed.
~.~
Flashes of earth, and then water. Flashes of great water, water too deep to contemplate, then earth.
Candor felt herself falling, body flailing against gravity-but how was that possible? She was submerged. Through stars, through earth, she was choking on it. Darkness assailed her, and she coughed until she felt as if she would burst. Fire, the earth gave way to fire, and Candor swam through the flames that burned her. Quickly, her skin melted, and she found herself made of nothing.
The fire disappeared. Darkness drew in, softly, through purples and pinks of sunset. Candor found herself awash in colors, both able to see them from a distance, and impossibly close with their hues.
She waited. She knew she was supposed to wait. An eternity or a moment passed, Candor was unsure which. A new consciousness reached out to hers.
Hello, it said, but it did not say it in a language to which Candor knew the words.
Hello, Candor replied pleasantly. She was unsure if she returned the salutations in words, but it did not seem to matter. The near-far sunset-sunrise glimmered.
You seem to be lost. The something said.
I seem to be. Candor replied. Where am I? If I know where I am, I am no longer lost.
That is not navigation. The consciousness explained, any more than words are meaning.
Oh. Candor did not know what to think next.
I wanted to meet you.
Who are you? Candor tried to see the being to whom she was speaking, but all around was simply pink and purple and yellow and gold.
That matters both more and less than anything you are capable of realizing. The being answered. So, I will not trouble you with it. I simply wished to offer you immunity.
Immunity? Candor asked. Am I going to be sick? Am I sick?
This will not protect you from illness. The being said.
Then—
You ask many questions.
Candor thought the being sounded amused.
I will offer you two pieces of advice.
Are you one of the Twins?
Would you like the advice?
Yes.
Then listen. The answers you search for will often present themselves without your seeking.
Is that one of the pieces of advice?
Candor did not know if the being could sigh in exasperation, but it seemed like it would.
No.
A beat of silence ensued as Candor tried to refrain from asking anything else.
At the end of the stars, behind the last bridge, find a box of silver and gold.
Dig up the marrow, the first star is not the last map. You will need both.
The being fell to silence, and Candor waited for another eternity moment.
Is this it? Candor couldn’t resist asking.
Yes. The voice sounded pleased. You are welcome.
Unsure whether to offer appreciation, Candor said thank you.
You need to return now. Your time to move is immanent.
Where am I? Who are you? Candor tried desperately to hold to the being, but she could feel it slipping away.
I wish you balance.
Candor fell. Back through fire, choking on earth, through the space that wasn’t, and through the water, drowning. Emerging she caught the flashes of earth and water and realized she saw Icaria from above. As she watched, it changed, too quickly for her to follow, until it dusted into ash, and blew into the ocean.
Thorn watched Candor’s seated form and waited. For twelve hours, her body sat with flames flickering over her skin. He had watched sweat pour down her body before placing the mouth of his water skin to her lips and tipping her head back. She had neither coughed nor resisted; Thorn rubbed his eyes. Letti slept on the carved bed, tied more gently to the headboard. Thorn had resisted the smoke. Perhaps it had begun to wane on the third night; perhaps Candor’s blood would last until morning.
Thorn watched Candor’s chest rise and fall. As soon as the fire had touched her, it raced over her body. It did not burn her clothes, nor her skin, nor hair, though the red tinged her shaggy white hair with a dark red. Thorn shivered; had he not known her, he would have thought her a demon.
Candor started, gasping a guttural breath as if she were emerging from water. Thorn jerked violently and hurried to her side. The flames had evaporated, leaving her hot and feverish. She collapsed forward.
Catching her, Thorn rubbed Candor’s back as it shook. She shivered so violently, Thorn thought for a wild moment she might break, but eventually her movement subsided and her breathing grew even.
She sat back. Eyes unfocused, it took a moment for Candor to realize it was Thorn who held her. She struggled, but then she seemed to think better of it and leaned once more into the big man.
Thorn rocked her slightly. Relieved, he watched as she closed her eyes to sleep.
~.~
Candor awoke to miraculously clean air. The interior of the tree-trunk house glowed with a rejuvenated energy. Despite the purity of her surroundings, Candor felt as if she were the wrong end of a candle. Her lips cracked as she opened her mouth. Her scalp hurt. Her bruises from the days before came roaring back to life as she shifted.
Gasping, Candor struggled briefly with her blankets before ceasing, panting.
“Candor!” Letti’s voice caused Candor to wince. “Candor, lie still.”
Candor did as she was told. Letti’s face appeared in her vision, as did Thorn’s, albeit in periphery.
“Thank the Twins you’re alright. Thorn told me what you did for us. For him.” Letti smoothed Candor’s hair from her face. “Can you stand?”
Candor nodded. “Help me.” Her voice sounded as though she had set fire to her lungs.
“Here.” Letti lifted Candor and began to strip her clothes off. Thorn hurriedly moved to his place by the basin’s pedal.
“I got you.” Letti murmered.
Candor let herself be maneuvered into the basin and waited as water flowed over her head. Shivering, the water was not warm, Candor returned to herself bit by bit.
She remembered the fighting of the last three days, the blood she had given, the flickering flame that had touched her.
Candor gasped as her dream, or her conversation, for she was unsure it was a dream, danced into her vision.
“Thorn.” Candor croaked. “I need to tell you—” She stopped as she remembered she did not trust him any longer.
He did not turn. Candor thought slowly, her mind still cloudy.
“What happened?” Letti broke the silence.
Making her decision, Candor recounted falling through the elements and her conversation with the being. She did not inform either of her companions about the advice she had been given. That, Candor felt, was something intensely personal.
“Was that an ancestor?” Candor asked. She accepted the towel Letti handed her.
Wrapped, Candor told Thorn he could turn. He did so, looking thoughtful.
“I would not say that was an ancestor in the way the ghosteaters know them to be.” Thorn touched one of his earrings. “There are spirits that still roam the land, forgotten specters of a forgotten time. They are immensely dangerous.”
“Why?” Asked Letti.
“Because they do not interact with our world the way we do. To engage with them is to flirt with madness.”
“Always with the answers until you are no longer smooth of tongue.” Candor pulled on her trousers and began to wrap her chest. “You are conveniently informed until you do not wish to share.”
Thorn did not answer. Letti looked between them, before saying quietly, “Candor, when you were on fire, Thorn cared for you. He offered you water and stayed by your side.”
“He did the barest of what would be expected of companions?” Candor snapped. “And how would you know? Your mind warped just as much as his did during the death days.”
Letti looked hurt.
“Candor.” A soft voice floated from the doorway. Haela had returned. “Anger will not serve you.”
“Anger is all I have.” Candor retorted. “How are your ancestors?”
“They did not visit me.” Haela looked so sad that Candor’s venom drained from her body.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It is a consequence of what I have chosen. As are your pains.” Haela looked Candor squarely in the face. “I would encourage you to be on your way as soon as you can.” Haela glanced at Thorn. “There are dead to be buried.”
“I see.” Thorn inclined his head.
“Candor.” Haela turned to the white-haired girl. “Save your ire. You will need it someday.” And with that, Haela padded out the doorframe, calling over her shoulder to meet her at the edge of the city in two hours.
The room fell silent once more. Candor, deflated, repacked her rucksack and cleaned her sword. Thorn did the same, and Letti tried to convince Candor to let Thorn heal her wounds. Candor flatly refused. She did not know if Thorn had informed Letti that he had taken her blood, but she did not think Letti would understand how much it discomforted her.
Finally, the hour arrived, and Thorn led the girls down the staircase that encircled the house. Candor noticed the houses had returned to their original positions, dead relatives once more buried beneath the homes. She shivered. Though the air was clear of smoke, Candor could swear she felt it tickling the inside of her nose. She had tucked away her fish-skin mask in her pack; it seemed like a useful item.
Knicks and gouges marked many of the houses as the trio worked their way across the city. Crossing rope bridges, the trio gazed down at the tranquil swamp, water returned to its natural state. Nothing burned anymore.
“It’s like it never happened.” Candor muttered.
Thorn glanced back over his shoulder sympathetically. “You grow accustomed to that particular dissociative feeling.”
Candor did not respond and turned away. She knew she could not remain angry with him until they reached the Citadel, but she had no interest in offering him forgiveness either. Unsure how to engage with the large man, Candor ground her teeth. I simply will not trust him. Aware of Letti’s eyes on her back, Candor tried to return her face to a stoic mask. It did not go well.
The blue sky seemed very far away, and Candor felt her muscles begin to loosen as they walked through the city. Her rib still screamed, but Candor gritted her teeth and ignored it. Rafts dotted the swamps, and children played along the small land bridges that strew across the cityscape. She wondered where they had been during the last three days. She chose not to think about it.
At the edge of the city, waiting on the grass that circled the ghosteaters’ homes and family, Haela waited. Next to her stood Pean and two young men. They held the reins of three horses.
Thorn smiled as the trio halted in front of their farewell party.
“Woden Thorn.” Haela held out her arms. “I expect to see you before I am placed below.”
“I’ll be back.” Thorn promised. He kissed the diminutive woman on her forehead. She swatted him.
“These are for you, as you cross the sea plains.” Haela gestured to the three horses. “They are fine steeds.”
“You do us a great honor, Usha Haela.” Thorn said, awed.
“I do hope you return too, Candor. Letti.” Haela embraced both girls.
They nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality. Your water basin is marvelous.”
Haela chuckled. “Indeed, it is.”
Pean and the two young men handed the reins to Thorn, Candor, and Letti. Thorn showed the girls how to slip their feet into the stirrups. “We will train more as we go along.”
Mounted, the three turned to the horizon. As the strips of land gave way to the watery glitter of the sea plains, Candor could see the outline of a small structure on the horizon.
Turning once more to look at the mountains, Candor gazed upon the peaks that had bounded her life for as long as she could remember. Haela laid a hand on her leg.
“They are waiting.”
Candor looked down, then, following Haela’s outstretched hand, found Thorn and Letti a few lengths down the swamps, picking their way across the sturdier pieces of earth.
Smiling softly, Candor nodded and Haela winked.
Candor tugged the reins gently and followed her companions southward.
~.~
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