Are you coming out?? I asked, keeping one hand on the ritual knife I kept in my pocket.
?No!?
?Why not??
?He said I was ugly.?
The glare I threw at Nathan would have destroyed him if I'd put any magic behind it.
?He's an idiot. Don't worry about him.?
The hag turned to look at me. There was a smile on her lips. She was so young. I sometimes forgot they had to grow up. I felt bad coming here, knowing that she was bound by The Creed to take something in exchange for the information I wanted and that every taking would put a weight on her soul that would eventually corrupt her.
I tried to justify it with the greater good. Anselm had to be taken out of the Flow, but there was no justification really. I simply couldn't risk another pact with a Devil.
?Can I have him, then??
Oh, she was learning fast.
?He's part of The Creed. You know I can't offer him.?
She shrugged.
?I know why you're here, Smriti Tapati?
Her mother was one of Anselm's victims It wouldn't surprise me if she witnessed the killing. She wouldn't have intervened. Not because she was young, but because she would have had no more emotional connection to her mother than a spiderling to the spider.
?You understand why it's so important for us to catch this Warlock, then? He disrespects The Creed and has taken souls of those who are part of it.?
She smiled, ditch moss flowing around her face as she did. She was maturing fast, this one. How many deals had she made?
?I'm going to help you, but only if you figure out why??
?How long do I have??
?The full moon is tomorrow.? She rose out of the water, her child's body, wreathed in waterweed which still floated, even as she hung in the air. ?It will be framed by those trees for one minute only as I stand.?
I moved behind her, letting my primal self find the time at which this would happen.
?If you're not here by the time it's gone, you get no help from me.?
As the car sped through the country roads Nathan looked at me.
?Would you have given me to her??
?Would you have gone??
?I mean if I wasn't of the Creed.?
?Don't be stupid,? I said, but the truth was, I wasn't sure.
By the time we got back into the city the night clubs were heaving and the streets were full of drunks, young and old. I could feel the hollowing out as my power weakened. This was Nathan's territory, where the Creed gave way to the Code; rules and regulations. Deals weren't made here like in the countryside, but they were different. It was subtle; both roguish and blunt. I didn't have the way of it. I was too honest.
?There,? Nathan pointed to a group of well-dressed men standing outside a basement club. ?I recognise Nephilim. That means The Trace is in there. Listen, you need to be more respectful.?
He must have spotted my sneer. The Trace was not a thing I liked dealing with. I parked as close as I could.
Nathan shook Nephilim's hand as we approached for a fraction of a second too long. He was clearly negotiating for access to The Trace. To me it sounded like simple compliments were paid, but some deal had been struck, as Nephilim guided us down the stairs.
The air in the club was full of people; their scent, their passion, their pure weight pushed the atmosphere against me from the moment the door opened. The feeling thickened as we approached The Trace. He sat surrounded by beautiful people. They would only see the pleasing glamour, but we could see the empty space inside him. Yet still they herded, like cows worshipping the butcher.
Nephilim spoke to him for a moment, then The Trace had his coterie make space for us.
?A pleasure to reacquaint ourselves, Trace,? Nathan opened, deliberately leaving out the definite article. ?I'm sure you remember Smriti.?
Trace bowed his head, the empty eye sockets pointing at me. He didn't see, but he absorbed. The Code forbade him to harm us, but that didn't mean he couldn't sample us. I detested it, and he knew that.
?You've been to see the water witch. You reek of its pond scum.?
?She is fragrant, I'll give you that,? Nathan returned. Was fragrant deliberately used? It seemed ambiguous enough to be part of the game. It could be taken sarcastically but could also mean Nathan was reminding The Trace to respect others of The Creed.
The Code was definitely a male invention. It depended so much on uncertainties treated like facts.
?Did she give you anything??
?Only a promise to help, once we figure out why she will.?
Was the game over already? It didn't seem right for The Trace to give up so easily.
?With all her years, I would think she would ask more.?
He didn't know! How could The Trace not know the Hag was dead? Of course, he would be reading it from me now, but how was I the one informing him.
?Because, as you now, once the body dies it becomes entropy. It disappears. The reason I wasn't aware of the event should be obvious.?
?It was planned.?
I dared not take my gaze away from The Trace. For a moment he showed me inside. I felt the Chaos that permeated his essence, that pure unform that existed at the dawn of time. I was getting lost in it and had to withdraw.
?So,? he asked, ?who did you make a deal with??
I was loath to tell him, but he could take it from me if he wished.
?She had a daughter.?
?Did she now??
It was coming together. I didn't have the grasp on it yet, but The Trace had given me more than I had asked for. There was a piece missing.
?Anselm isn't in your vision, is he??
?No, he is not. Everything he does is planned. If there is no chaos, there is no need for me.?
?Was that as pointless as I think it was?? Nathan asked as we got in the car.
?No.? I needed to gather my thoughts. ?The Trace didn't know about either the killing or the child, so all of it was planned. The question isn't when the hag had her child, it is ?why?' The question isn't why is she helping us, but why isn't she when she already said she will??
Nathan was blessedly quiet for a moment. I almost hated to interrupt.
?How much did that cost??
?Not too much. I owe The Trace a favour, which will not cost lives, but may involve opening a portal or providing an escort, and Nephilim wants his children to leave the city.?
?Why??
?I didn't ask, but perhaps I should have.?
?I need a shower.?
The Code always left me feeling dirty. As I sat in the living room, my head wrapped in a towel, I slowly came back to myself. I would have loved a whiskey there and then, but there was no way I could afford to be drunk tonight.
?I'm sure one won't hurt.?
Anselm hadn't changed bit. He was still young, with those slightly too large cheek bones supporting those slightly too large eyes.
?Hi Smriti. I've missed you.?
No you haven't.
?I have, I swear.?
Then why did you leave?
?You know why. To end The Creed.?
So, you're going to, what? Kill us one at a time?
?You'll be last, I promise.?
He was gone before I could think of a response, leaving me angry with frustration. Little brothers were so annoying.
I woke with the dawn, as always. Everything still felt out of my control. Someone else was the author of my world right now, and I had to find out who. Nathan would be here any moment.
Gathering my wits and my ritual knife, I was ready to go, I just didn't know where.
Despite the cleansing and the dawn, I could still feel the touch of The Trace on me. I wished I hadn't allowed my mind to experience his chaos.
Nathan wasn't talking, which was unusual this early in the day. Normally I didn't care what he did. We'd stumbled together at the start of this. Anselm was my brother. Nathan was paying off a favour he owed someone. We both wanted the same thing.
His natural habits were bringing him back towards the city, but I could tell from his demeanour that he didn't know where to go either. On the outskirts of Swords, he pulled over and found somewhere to stop.
?We're in trouble.? I didn't argue. ?Either we've missed something obvious, or someone is blocking us. I've never not been able to find a thread. Today, there are no threads. Everything's a mess and I can't even imagine a place to go to untangle it.?
?Could The Trace have done this??
?Yes, but he didn't. I wouldn't owe him anything if he confounded us while under The Code.?
?I know It's at the centre of if all.?
?But, how? It doesn't know anything.?
?Exactly. It knows nothing. When was the last time you heard of that happening??
Nathan nodded.
?When we mentioned the hag child The Trace said, what.?
?Did she now??
?Right. He had no idea that??
Nathan waited for me to continue. I was there.
?He did know. He knew, but he was suggesting that it wasn't her child, at least, not entirely.?
?It can't be!?
I looked at him.
?But there hasn't been one born in centuries.?
?Maybe it's a little overdue,? I said.
?Ok, but why would Anselm kill it's mother? Was he trying to prevent the birth? And why the others??
?The others were the sacrifice. He was taking their essence to feed to the Hag. She needed the power to grow the child.?
?And The Trace didn't see them because they all volunteered. It was all planned.?
Nathan had a smile on his face as he started the car. ?I never thought I'd see it. An actual god!?
?Why would someone birth a god??
The Turtle looked up at me, casually chewing a piece of carrot. I'd put up a diversion shield so the visitors to the zoo would ignore us.
?Creeeaaaaatiooooonnnnn or deeessssstrrrrruuuuuctiooooonnnnn!? he answered. ?Thhhhhaaaaahhhhhtsss whhhhhaaaaattt Gooooodssssss dooooo!?
?The warlock wants to destroy The Creed.?
?Aaaaa Goooood coooouuuuuuuuuld dooooo thhhhhiiiiisssss, buuuuuttt thhhhheeeee mmmmmaaaaagggggiiiiic wwwwwooooouuuuuld ssssstiiiiilllll eeexxxxxiiiiissssst.?
?So, they would achieve nothing!?
?IIIIIIIIIIIIII diiiiiidnnnnn't ssssssaaaaayyyyy thhhhhaaaaattttt.?
?What would that achieve??
It was a fair question, but I didn't have the answer for it. ?Maybe they want to combine The Code and The Creed, or maybe they want to strip it down to raw power. Imagine magic with no cost? Either way, it has to stop.?
We were finally on the road back to the lake. Nathan's phone rang.
?Trace, what can I do for you??
?I have chosen to call in the favour you owe me. I will need a portal. You will know when and where. Is the wonderful Smriti with you??
?Yes,? Nathan answered, ?but she's busy.?
?So useful.?
I guessed he didn't know I was listening, but he cut off the call.
?Did he just suggest that you sacrifice me to open a portal??
?Yes.?
?That can't be. Anselm promised I would be the last.?
?Maybe that's why. If he can undo Anselm's plan he thinks he can introduce chaos and finally get a handle on the situation.?
I looked at Nathan. ?And??
?I'm not planning to sacrifice you, but you understand I will suffer harm if I don't open his portal??
?But you think there's a get out??
?He said you were ?So useful'. I could choose to interpret that as he wants you alive.?
?But you still need my blood.?
?Let's not worry about that until we have to.?
The surface of the water was so still, a perfect mirror for the sky. Looking at the colours fading to the east, I waited for the moon to rise. Nathan stood next to me.
?You'd better greet her this time. Respectfully.?
He looked abashed. ?Queen of the Lake, we beseech you to rise.?
She rose from the water immediately, although not one ripple spread from where she broke the surface.
?You found out. Well done!?
?Thank you, Goddess.? He bowed, the suck up. Was he hoping she was still naïve? I knew nothing of Divine psychology. Gods could be capricious, proud, even petty. Could they be naïve? Even one this young?
?So, tell me Smriti, who told you??
?I went to the ones with the oldest memories.?
?The Trace and the Shielded Toad,? she said, as though marking them off a list, or onto one.
?They told me enough to figure it out.?
Nathan was looking at the crest of the moon appearing between the two trees on the other side of the lake.
?If you will forgive me, my Lady,? he said, ?I have some business to attend to before we finish.?
She was ignoring him anyway, as he made his way around the lake. He would get there in time, but he didn't want me to accompany him. Where would he find the blood?
?So, Smriti Tapati, why am I helping you??
?Because you said you would.?
?That's a childish answer. You know better than that.?
?Because you want to end The Creed.?
She smiled as she drifted to and fro on the water's surface.
?Closer. That's the end of it, but why am I helping you??
?Because I am the last. If you help me capture Anselm, you achieve your goal. But why? He's helping you.?
?So wonderful, Anselm. He comes to the answers quicker than you, but he has the same vision.?
The moon was half up. I could make out the vague shape of Nathan making his way to the trees, ready to open the portal. Thinking about it, it did seem like an appropriate place for it to happen. I could see why The Trace had chosen it.
And there it was. Suddenly I could see how it all connected. As far as we understood it, The Creed came from the energy of the Universe. The Code was the commerce of the intelligent, but The Creed was pure. But we had it wrong. The Creed was the lifeblood of the universe. It provided the power upon which everything ran. My magic was no different from The Code. I still traded in the resources of existence. I simply touched it more closely than those of The Code.
The Trace knew this. If he could have The Creed removed from the Universe, entropy would begin to swallow it all and he could return to his home. Was he really so bored with existence?
?When the portal opens, The Trace can return to the source. He will no longer watch over our affairs. That would give you the freedom to do whatever you like with the magic that is no longer bound to existence.?
She clapped her hands and jumped up and down on the surface of the water. Again, not a ripple. The lake remained a perfect reflection of the sky and horizon.
?But he doesn't have the blood?? I murmured. ?Is he planning to sacrifice himself??
I knew his ritual knife couldn't hurt him. Quickly, I slipped my hand in my pocket to be sure he hadn't stolen mine. No, the weight of the blade was still there.
?Oh no!?
The moon was framed in the trees. In a flash, Anselm appeared between the two alders. I could feel him in my mind the moment he arrived. Anselm Tapati, my brother, of my blood. I couldn't see the shock on his face as he saw what I knew. It wouldn't matter. Nathan was already there, his ritual knife in his hand.
The Goddess smiled, waiting for the blood to spill. I watched the trees, waiting for the portal to open.
It didn't come.
The Goddess looked confused. She glared at me, and I could feel the press of her anger. My nose started to bleed. I shook my head, trying to say it wasn't me, but she wasn't having it. She moved towards me, no wake stretching behind her.
Seeing the moon, hanging between the reflected trees, I saw the last piece.
Throwing my blood in the water, I watched as the reflected moonlight flashed. From the bank opposite, a red stain spread across the water's surface and, there in the reflection, a portal began to open. The goddess turned to look at what I could see.
She wailed like a child, twisting her hands to muddle the water. The surface became a maelstrom which only served drew her closer to the planar opening.
Screaming and calling my name, she was drawn down to wherever the portal opened. She cried, and threatened, but ultimately, there was nothing she could do. The Trace had played his cards right.
With a snap, the portal closed and the goddess disappeared.
We were nearly back in the city before Nathan spoke.
?I'm sorry about Anselm.?
?I know. You did what you had to do,? I said, although I felt there could have been some alternative. ?How did you know the portal wouldn't open??
?I reversed the terms of the trade,? he said. ?I'd hoped the reflection would take up the meaning.?
?Won't The Trace seek you now??
?No,? he answered. ?In the strictest sense, I honoured our agreement. I don't expect I'll ever get another chance to.?
I nodded again. ?You can drop me off here. I'll make my own way home.?
?If you're sure.?
He pulled over.
?Good luck, Nathan.?
I got out and he drove away.
CW: Mentions of suicide
Right around April, maybe three years ago, we were sitting on the roof of our car, the old battered red Mitsubishi, parked right in the middle of the road. Friedman Avenue was void of traffic for a large majority of the time, so no one ever came to bother us while we sat there, looking up at the massive grey clouds. It had been raining for an hour, and we'd been there, motionless, for just as long. Nathan was dead silent, and back then, that was not something I thought I would ever miss. The faint sound of his breathing, barely audible over the tapping of the raindrops on the windshield, was all I'd been focusing on the whole time I was soaked, my sundress as damp as if I'd plunged into the public pool two blocks down while fully clothed, and I remember feeling nothing but happy. Nathan's fingers, interlaced with mine while our hands rested in a growing puddle, were starting to prune, and he looked the least miserable I'd seen him in a long time. I don't remember realizing all the light was gone from the white sky, nor inhaling and feeling the petrichor fill up my lungs to the brim, but soon enough it was night, and Nathan drove us home. He would always drive with his frozen right hand resting on my left thigh, no matter how much I would swat it away and tell him to keep both hands on the wheel. He had all these little habits that, although I pretended aggravated me, greatly comforted me in the thought that we'd be together forever.
I've told this specific story an infinite number of times, but no one is allowed to tell me they're bored of it. Not like anyone would ever dare; from the funeral on, everyone around me was dying to hear any joyful tidbits of what life with Nathan was like, back when he still deemed the world had wonders to offer. I've recounted this perhaps meaningless anecdote to his parents, to mine, to all of our extended families, and every time, they look at me with these deep, sad eyes. They look at me with the melancholy he used to lay onto me, and as much as I try to appear strong, I always have to excuse myself and go collect my emotions in private. As I make my way through the woods, I think about that story, about that moment where time stood still for the two of us, once again.
I know my way around the trees like I know the floorplan of what he used to call our dream house. It was a joke; we'd been planning the architecture of our forever home for years and in the meantime, we lived in an isolated cottage up in the mountains. It was quaint, but so far from what we'd envisioned for ourselves that he couldn't help himself but make fun of it constantly. The years kept passing, and our house was still far from being ready, and so it started to look like the cottage would have to be our ?dream house? in the end. I chase the abandoned blueprints from my mind and keep avoiding the ravines and other ambushes that appear on all sides of the path. I am almost certain I could walk this track, from the main road all the way down to the river, with my eyes closed.
As I get closer, I feel a ball of anxiety and nausea form in the pit of my stomach, as it does every time. I hear his laugh in the rustling of the leaves in the wind, I picture him doing a cannonball into the waves every time the water splashes against the shore. He was the forest with every fibre of his being, and now that he's gone, the forest simply has no choice but to be Nathan in return. I feel him all around me, but it's not just his rare moments of liveliness that I can sense I take the last couple of steps needed for my feet to be in the water, and from the corner of my eye, I can see it: the rock. An imposing cliff, more like, that stands tall to my right and hides most of the horizon, almost reaching the sun. To get up there, he would climb the steep side of it all the way to the top as I nervously watched from the bottom, ready for him to fall to his death at any time. But no, he always made it safely, and he'd wave at me from the top with child-like excitement before diving or backflipping into the river.
If anyone had told me that, one day, he'd willingly fall to his death from that cliff, I would've laughed. Now, I can't look at it without remembering the terrifying realization of what he was about to do. I can't do so much as think of the cliff without also seeing him as he took a final step into nothingness. I can't unsee his limp body float in the air, I can't erase my own scream from my mind, I can never forget his gaze meeting mine and his eyes closing for the very last time when his head hit the surface. Today is no different; when I turn and come face to face with the rock, tears start flowing from my eyes and before I can even realize it, I am on my knees, right there in the water. My whole body trembles as I remind myself that I couldn't save him, that I failed Nathan like I'd never failed anyone before. My shins scrape against the sharp rocks at the bottom of the river, but I pay them no attention. I know he didn't mean for me to see him falling; he never would've done such a thing, but I can't help but wonder what went through his mind when he did see me. Did he regret it? Did he still love me enough, then, to regret it? The sun sets over the feared rock, but from behind my curtain of still-flowing tears, it makes no real difference. I remain on my knees, shivering as the water grows colder around my legs and seeps deeper into my shoes and socks, but I don't look up for a long time.
Suddenly, when the sky finishes turning pitch black, I realize I've never stuck around by the river this late into the night. I don't trust myself to be here alone once nature goes to sleep and the forest doesn't sound like it's watching over me anymore. Just as I stand up to leave, a faint, cyan-coloured halo of light appears in the middle of the river, about 50 feet ahead of me. As I wipe the remainder of tears from my cheeks, the light it emits keeps making the environment brighter, and the circle gets so big that it nearly reaches my feet. In the middle of the halo, the water starts bubbling, even though it's nowhere near-boiling temperatures. Something tells me I should leave, maybe even run back down the path that takes me back to the road, but my feet are firmly stuck in place and I am forced to keep watching the water. The bubbles inflate and explode incessantly, until finally, someone, or something, emerges from the water. A head peeks out of the water first, closely followed by what looks like a humanoid torso and arms, but after the waist, no legs: it's all some kind of smoke that sways around in the air. The shadowy figure that now stands, or rather floats, before me is enormous, its skin a translucid blue and its whole body illuminated and reflecting the moon's light the way metal would. I can't tell if it's a woman or a man; it looks like something in between and neither, all at once. When it opens its mouth, a frosty cloud escapes, and by the time it floats through the space between us and reaches me, I hear a deafening sound of waves slowly turn into words.
?Are you the fairy I have been waiting for?? Its voice is booming, seemingly coming from everywhere around me. Nathan had dubbed me his forest fairy, way back when we first started dating, and for some reason, it doesn't strike me as bizarre that this? thing, would also address me as such. There is no inflection in its tone, no clear indication that this was a question, so it takes me a while to realize it is expecting an answer from me. Frozen and completely stunned by the sight of this water creature, I find myself unable to speak and simply nod.
?Ordinarily, I am not a patient one. I have many other mortals to attend to. You're lucky he was able to convince me you needed my assistance,? it continues, swirls of light escaping the surface of its glass-like skin and disappearing into the night, all around it. Its hair, which looks more like white strands of see-through seaweed than anything, floats up and down as if transported by the wind, yet I feel the air is completely still around me.
?He? Is Nathan with you? Who are you??
I hear the despair in my own voice when my words make their way towards my mysterious companion. In that instant, I feel sorry for myself. I would give anything to see him again, but from the creature's subtly pitiful expression, I can tell my wishes will not be granted tonight.
?Some humans have resolved to call me Nav and attempt to pray to me using that, although I was never given a proper name, nor was I meant to be worshipped. I watch over the waters of this land, caring for the living souls that inhabit them, collecting the souls that lose their way within them. Your love rests with me, as he forever will, and now acts as one of my sprites,? the spirit whistles in my general direction. I can't help but look around, even though I was taught long ago that sprites are not visible to the human eye.
?Is he alright?? I feel panicked, I cannot shake the anxious feeling that has settled into my bones. ?Can he hear me??
?Do you not feel him wandering all around? He greatly pleaded for permission to hover around you; he has been pushing you towards me for weeks now, to no avail. You always leave the sanctuary too soon.? The spirit gestures its arms towards the forest as it says this, sending a cascade of water droplets my way. When they land on me, it feels as though an army of hands is patting my shoulders, caressing my forehead, running its fingers through my hair. I feel stuck in a group hug of strangers, and although I feel Nathan is somewhere in there, I struggle to pinpoint the familiarity with which he should be embracing me. I fear making the spirit disappointed in me, so I simply nod, attempting to look reassured.
?It is very rare for me to collect a soul such as the one your love had to offer? It was not yet his time. He insists I tell you he never stopped loving you, and that this is what he felt he needed to do. He insists I tell you he apologizes for all the pain he caused,? it says in a rumbling voice, even deeper than before, at an even slower pace than before.
My eyes have cried all the tears they could for tonight, but my heart always has more space for hurting, and the mere mention of Nathan thinking about me sends me into a frenzy. Not being able to hold him, not even being able to see him? I feel my insides swell and press against the walls of my body with all their might; I brace myself, genuinely convinced the pain is about to make me explode. Instead of that happening, I just start screaming. A feral noise starts from the depths of my chest cavity and makes it all the way out into the open before I have any time to repress it. Unfazed, the creature watches me as I rid my lungs of their contents, and when I've finally run out of breath, I fall to my knees, feeling empty and weak.
?When you said I needed your assistance, what did you mean?? I manage to squeeze all of that out between two gasps for air.
?Well, it is part of my calling. When someone loses a soul to my waters, it is my duty to heal whatever they leave behind. Grief can destroy beings from the inside, more than anything I have ever witnessed before. I cannot make it disappear, but I can help soothe it,? it says in a matter-of-fact way, incredibly emotionless. Despite its seeming lack of compassion, its words feel like bandages being wrapped around me.
?Can I ask you another question??
?I have other duties that need completing before dawn, fairy. Be brief,? it breathes out, surprisingly gentle. Feeling sufficiently replenished, I rise back to my feet.
?When does it stop hurting??
For the first time tonight, the spirit closes its eyes, and I feel it thinking, maybe even feeling for me. Its eyes don't open when it starts talking.
?One day, you will awake, and your first thought will not be for him. One day, the sound of his name will flood your mind with images of light before any memories of the cliff have a chance to make their way through. You will walk through these woods, your heart lighter than a feather, with a smile on your face, and you will feel him, a sprite in the nearby waves, sometimes hiding way up in the trees. I do not hold more knowledge than you, and I cannot tell you when that day will come. But I can extend my senses into the future better than you ever will, and I will spare you this single promise: that day is coming,? it tells me, its voice still full of overbearing tides, but more comforting now than it was aggressive at first.
In return, I have nothing but silence to offer. The spirit looks down at me, and I look up at it, and though I cannot see any of its beams of light glitter towards me, I feel some kind of energy escape its aura and enter my body through my forehead. Something escapes from me as this happens; I can't put my finger on it, but my heart beats faster, in a way that feels healthier, less painful. The spirit comes towards me, shrinking down to my size, and when it's close enough for me to look into its eyes, I find it looks like Nathan. I know I am imagining it; I quickly noticed that every single face I've ever come by can easily be projected onto the unbelievably anonymous one of this water entity, but I cannot help myself.
It gets incredibly close to me and when I inhale deeply, my nostrils start tickling, unexpectedly filled with the pungent smell of salt. I am so accustomed to the blandness of freshwater and I haven't been to the sea in years, so for a moment, it takes me back to my childhood summer vacations. It leans in even closer and when I close my eyes, our faces come into contact, although it feels nothing like I had expected. I don't think it kisses me, but whatever it does, I get from it a wave of comfort from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes, albeit completely frozen. When I escape the trance-like feeling its embrace gave me and finally open my eyes, a deep shiver runs down my spine; I am in the complete darkness, alone. I look to my right, to my left, I even check the sky, but there's nothing: the spirit has truly disappeared. The water is back to being nearly invisible and I can feel every pore of my body again. I feel myself smiling and, incredulous, I have to touch my hand to my mouth to make sure it's really happening. When I turn around to go home, at last, I don't even think of looking towards the cliff; the trees open up in front of me, and the moonbeams shining down from above make themselves brighter to light the way. I start walking, unafraid, and the wind pushes me forward, one step at a time. With every gust, I hear Nathan's voice whispering my name between the branches.
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