Prologue: Wallowing in Wait
A Revival of Loss
It wasn't tears. It wasn't pain. It was almost triumph that gripped me as I returned to the darkness and breathed in the nothing that should've meant it was all over. But I knew the price. I knew what was to come. Phyllo would be waiting for me, arms outstretched to comfort the whatever I was feeling as I found myself dead once again.
But I hadn't died. I'd walked into that throne room, I'd done my duty as the new Goddess of Wisdom. I'd bound the Fiend to the Queen so that one sun, far down the line, Roisin could finish the job. And that would be enough.
It had to be enough.
Finding myself back in that dark place, so far from comfort and warmth, was a shock. I wasn't dead. I hadn't died. I was still there, still trying, still counting the suns.
And yet, there I was. Once again stuck between lives, between worlds. Lost. Worn. Weary.
I lay in that place far longer than I had the previous three times. What was the point? There was no saving any of them. My desperation didn't change that. And if there was no saving them, there was no changing Lafleur. There was no protecting Jasmin from losing Roisin. There was no exploring as Nyxara. There was nothing.
To say I wanted to fade away was indefinitely too small for the emotions that washed over me as I realised.
Nyxara still lived in the sense she had not died, but her life was no longer her own. She was The Despairing Truth. A goddess in every right. But living? That was debatable. She couldn't experience the love and life she once had. That was all taken from her, from me, the moment she walked out of that throne room.
Before that, really.
So I stayed in the darkness. I felt myself disappear a few times. There was nothing to be done, so why bother? What did it matter if I just faded away? That's what most people tended to do, after all.
"Rose," the voice was mine. Had I spoken? "Rose, you really must not let yourself give in so easily." I certainly hadn't said all that. "You don't have to be a coward, Rose. Fear is one thing, but to give up and give in? That's not like you."
"Shut up," I growled at whoever it was. "You don't know me."
A hand settled on my shoulder, or it seemed to. "I do know you," still my voice, "and I know you don't stop just because you can't save them. You're an innovator, Rose."
"And you're a massive fucking pain," I roared. "What's the point?"
"That is for you to decide. There's still plenty of time to understand, but you have to decide." She sounded smug. Did I really sound like that? "Now get up. Go see Phyllo and tell her you're sorry for making her wait."
"If it will make you stop talking, I'll do anything," I complained as I stood and began walking toward the meadow.
The last thing I heard as the light began to find my eyes was my voice, cheekily threatening me. "I'll hold you to that."
It would be dishonest to say the meadow was a bit brighter as I found myself once again surrounded by a million paths, a billion choices, a trillion potential heartaches. Equally dishonest to say it wasn't brighter, truly. And that was all before I took in Phyllo's gentle face, not quite smiling, not quite frowning, just watching.
"So, Rose," she whispered, filling the distance between us, "you see now that there's little to be done for a life you've already led."
"Pointless," I barely managed the word. "Every bit of it means nothing."
"Does it?" Phyllo tilted her head to the side in a manner that broke my heart. It was a movement that reminded me of Micah. Her expression shifted to something like concern, and all I could see was Jasmin. Not Salora, but Jasmin when she was still mine. Still Roisin's Jasmin. "I'm not so certain I agree, Rose. But then, I have had a touch more time to come to terms with these things."
"Tell me, then, Phyllo," I fought the weight in my throat to confront her idealistic silliness, "what does it mean? If you're so sure it doesn't mean nothing, then you must have some clue of what it does mean."
She set a finger to her lips in a shushing motion before winking. "We've been over this, Rose. There are things I cannot say. Things you must discover. Things you must process. It will all become clear when it's ready."
"That, Phyllo," I growled the words, "is bullshit, and you know it."
"I do."
"These paths. These lives. These places." I waved a hand around the meadow as I spoke. "They're all real. The people, the animals, the plants. Every part of it. Far too real to be a ploy."
"Of course, they are."
"And you and I," I pointed back and forth. "We're real."
"Well, that's debatable."
"Oh fuck you."
"No thanks," she smirked and stepped toward me. "That would be a bit weird, given how many more times we're going to have to see each other."
"Don't joke like that," I said around a frown. "You know what I meant, and you're just trying to make me feel better."
"Am I?" Her smirk shifted into a smile. "That doesn't sound like me. I am a monster. A terrible inhuman force that was put here to torture you, after all."
"I didn't say that."
"No," she raised her brows. "But you've been fighting against the thought since the first moment you laid eyes on me. The first time."
"So you can read my thoughts."
"Not even a little. I just —" she tapped the side of her head several times, "— get you, you know."
"I don't."
"Well anyway," she said softly, moving closer to remove the space between us, "when are you going back to Lafleur, and do you need a hug?"
"Never," I said with finality. "And yes."
She stepped into my personal space and wrapped her arms around me, pulling my head to her shoulder, positioned at perfect height, really. Convenient. We stood there, her arms wrapped around me, mine squeezing a bit too tightly, for a long time. I suppose I must have been crying because her shoulder was soaked when at last we released each other.
"You're a bad liar, Rose," she said as she walked away, back turned toward me. "You're already begging to go back and try again. You're already dreaming of ways to change the story, ways to convince Nyxara that she can just be Nyxara. Ways to take the blade that killed Roisin and let it stab you instead."
"Shut up."
"And that's okay, Rose," she turned to face me again and leaned against a tree. "To my left is your next life in Lafleur. It's a terrible shame you won't stay here with me. To my right, you'll find peace and joy and eutopia." I could hear the e she added to the word. What a weird woman. "But we both know where you're going."
"Well that's where you're wrong, Phyllo the Goddess of the Meadow," I laughed at her, defiantly, smugly. "I won't go to Lafleur. I will stay right here. Chat with you. Eventually go and enjoy that e-utopia you are offering. And then, when I return, we'll talk about how wondrous it was."
"Then tell me, dear rose," she quirked a single brow, "why your feet are already carrying you to the one on my left."
She was right. I was already moving. I had made up my mind without realising it. At the last moment, I turned sharply and went down the path to her right. She couldn't dictate my journey.
Choices came. They went. They carried on. Left, right, right, left, left, left, left. Darkness. It wasn't the darkness of death. It wasn't the darkness of being reborn.
First there was blood, pain. My bones cracked under some pressure I hadn't been prepared to hold. A burning filled my blood. Flashes of faces barely remembered. A man with a scowl. A woman with a graceless air. Darkness and peace personified, and a silver flower.
That bitch lied to me. This was the path to Lafleur.
It's what I wanted, we both knew. But that was unkind of her. In any case, I did all I could to hold it together as the blinding sun invaded the darkness at last. Who the hells was I?