‘I never gave up on you.’ Eden’s voice had softened, her manner now calm and gentle. ‘All the time I was lost inside my Song, a part of me trusted that we’d find each other. And here we are.’
She was the person I knew, the woman I loved. I wanted to touch her, hold her, but reaching out, I felt only a dry, nebulous sensation where her shoulders were, like my fingers had passed through threads of spiderweb hanging in the air. My hands balled into fists again. My wife, a ghoul, a victim of murder …
‘I know you, Wendal Finn. I know what you’re thinking.’ Eden looked around the sparse room, tears welling. ‘It doesn’t matter now.’
I shook my head. ‘Dyonne made me believe you’d killed yourself. She stole your Song—’
‘Just as she stole yours.’
‘She’s still out there, not that it makes any difference now.’
‘Forget Dyonne.’ Eden stepped closer, right in front of me, so close but a million miles away. ‘I was overjoyed when I found out you were still alive. The best news.’
Her words perturbed me. They were spoken with affection but underlined by finality, like she was beginning the end of things, and I was the blind man who had learned to see too late.
‘But the news was double-edged,’ Eden continued. ‘Powers greater than us wanted Sycamore and they would always stand between us.’
‘But not now?’ I said, hope making it sound like a question.
The sadness in Eden’s smile told me everything I didn’t want to know.
She said, ‘You’ve been shadowed by death for too long, Wendal. It’s over, you’re free. It’s time to live again. Look out of the window.’
The flashes of lightning were less frequent, less bright.
‘Old Castle is safe,’ Eden said. ‘The storm is passing.’
I could hear the truth of it in the drone of the city shield. It sounded less strained and the air felt less heavy, less angry. The rift was healing, but how could I care about that?
‘This is Sycamore’s gift.’ Eden’s smile was happier this time. ‘He’s giving us the chance to say goodbye to each other.’
I bowed my head, not wanting her to see my denial, and futilely, desperately, I begged for what I had no right to ask: ‘Stay with me.’
‘Oh, Wendal. The realm of the dead is singing. The other side beckons.’
‘I—’ I choked on my words. ‘I don’t have a spirit, Eden. I can’t come with you.’
‘Then let me go, here and now, while you still can.’
‘No.’ I sniffed back tears. ‘There must be another way.’
Eden reached out and her phantom touch stroked my cheek. ‘You were always the same, seeing only the moment, never thinking ahead, never considering reason.’ She knew me too well; it broke my heart. ‘But you should savour this moment. We did it. We found each other. You got what you wished for. And I know that my husband would never ask me to give up heaven in return.’
The last four months of my life weighed heavy on my mind. They had been nothing but a stall, a slow, protracted journey to the truth. I had no anger left inside me, no tears or sense of injustice; I felt no relief or elation for Old Castle and its one hundred thousand citizens. Time stopped at this moment. Time stopped and waited for me to accept reason.
‘I used to hate that you were always right,’ I said, managing a weak attempt at a smile. ‘We had a good life here, you know.’
‘We really did.’ Eden’s eyes became wistful. ‘It ended too soon.’
I nodded, my gaze fixed on hers. ‘I …’ I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence, to bring this bitter-sweet reunion to a conclusion. My wife did it for me.
‘I love you, too, Wendal Finn.’
‘Find peace, Eden. Find beauty.’ I held out a hand and her dry, gossamer fingers stroked mine. ‘Maybe I’ll see you around.’
Eden sighed contentedly and her spirit filled with a light the same deep shade of green as her eyes. She shattered into a thousand glowing sycamore seeds, spinning, holding the shape of her before flowing through me with the gentlest of sensations, leaving a mark that told her husband how she felt about him in a way he would never forget. The seeds scattered in all directions, sinking through the walls and floor and ceiling, pursuing peace. And Eden was gone.
My hand fell to my side and I stared into the space where she had stood. Resolution took over my sadness, leading me to a strange state of mournful completion. My eyes roamed the room, and I didn’t have the heart to consider what came next.
Voices provided a welcome distraction, coming from the lane outside the window. They sounded relieved, joyful. And suddenly I could be surrounded by this familiar desolation no longer. I didn’t belong in this room, so I left, heading out of the door, down the stairs and onto the streets of Old Castle.
Above, the storm was calming. The lightning had already stopped and the black, roiling clouds were slowing, their colour growing paler. The airborne metallic taste had weakened to a faint bitter tang. Citizens were coming out of their homes. More and more of them joined me on the street to witness the end of the storm, and soon there was a thick crowd. Some people laughed, others wept or stared at the sky in hope, genuine and cynical both. The relief was palpable, and I bristled to hear some of them thank the Scientists for this change in Old Castle’s fortune.
Amidst the crowd, with Eden’s final touch lingering inside me, I watched the rift between worlds healing and wondered if Sycamore could see me from his realm, taking a final look into the land of the living. The Shepherd of the Dead, free at last, back where he belonged.
I might as well have been standing on the street alone. None of the citizens noticed I was there. The Song of Always had taken care of that, but for how much longer? I was staring into a half-life that might end in the next minute or … When? My only certainty was that Old Castle had no place for me, nor any other city on Urdezha.
Someone jostled me and I stumbled. When I’d regained my footing, I looked up to see that Lana Khem had joined the crowd. She was watching me, statue-still. Her face was bruised, but on her forehead was a large glassy bead in the shape of a teardrop. It gave off a rose-tinted glow. Mrs Blackstone’s ether implant, now prolonging life for a new Director of the Quantum.
Separated by celebrating bodies, Lana and I stared at each other for a long, frozen moment while the red glow of the sun shone through the clouds for the first time in days, and cold, fresh wind blew along the street. Lana nodded at me. I turned my back on her, shoving my way through the throng of citizens, heading for the city gates and whatever lay beyond.