A mysterious past, an unrequited love, and a desperate need to find himself, fifteen-year-old Kalyn has enough to occupy him without being on the verge of a massive societal upheaval. Join Kalyn and his friends as they explore what it means to come...
As we near my childhood home, my heart seizes in my throat. Gone are the fields of poppies, the lazy seas of lavender. In the silvery moonlight, the world seems bleached of color. Corsa's lovingly tended garden has been trampled beneath militant feet. Windows are broken and boarded.
The once neat rock path, placed painstakingly by the passed Avi, and hand painted decades later by the twins (who had declared it "too plain"), has been upset. Colored rocks, depicting smeared caricatures of bugs and fairies, are strewn across the font lawn. Though it would be generous to even call it a lawn any more.
Grass has been yanked out by the roots, and I worry that someone has, at one point, resorted to eating it. The front door sways, lop-sided, on creaking hinges. I see my hand reach out to touch it. I'd like to claim that I am in control, but I am utterly detached. My mind can only cling to the desperate hope that this is a nightmare. My feet move forward of their own accord, even as my consciousness recoils.
The floor is bare, devoid of rugs or comforts, and our the shuffling of our feet echoes off of the empty walls. I hardly recognize the place. Remnants of paintings and broken-down furniture lay, charred, in the fireplace. I can see where the twins, in attempt to lighten the atmosphere, scrawled bright drawings on the otherwise white walls, but even these have fallen into decay.
I sweep my gaze over the desolation, and tears spring to my eyes. How much have they suffered while I convinced myself, for my own conscience, that they were safe? Mab puts an arm around me and weeps openly for the loss.
The effect it has on my fellows is undeniable. All crowd around me, offering their somber condolences, but my chest is in knots, and I cannot summon the words. My thoughts had been with them often in the months and miles between us, but I had never imagined this. I simply couldn't have.
"Kal?" The sound is so soft and rasping, that I think I must have imagined it. It may well be a ghost haunting these halls. Haunting me. And I would deserve it. For every happy moment I've enjoyed while they wasted away here.
"Kal?" It is stronger this time, and I look toward it. "What are you doing here?" There is more fear, reprimand, in the tone than relief. "What are all of you doing here??"
I lose myself at the sight of her. The question does not even register. I rush to embrace Corsa and nearly lift her off of her feet. She groans in my ear, and I set her back on the floor. My joy is short-lived. Ragged clothes hang from her skeletal frame. I take her in in horror. She cannot miss my gaping expression, but she is undeterred.
"You have to get out of here. All of you. You can't let him find you."
"No," I tell her simply. It is the first time I can recall defying her. "We are not going anywhere. We have to fix this." She seems to take in the sword at my hip, how our muscles have grown long and lean. Köv's wolf. Agan's bow. Hope fills her hollow eyes, then she shakes her head.
"It's not enough. I've tried. The wolves have pledged loyalty. The Incarnates are gone. Our people are weak. And tired." She sighs. "So tired. You can't face him. I won't let you. You have to leave."
"I won't leave you again." The fight goes out of her, and she collapses into a rickety stool. Tabby pads into view and hops delicately into Corsa's wasting lap. Tears fall as she strokes the cat's striped fur.
"You brought her back," Corsa whispers as the feline purrs. Content, somehow, in spite of everything.
"We're all back," I tell her. "And we are going to fix this."
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