Goldie
Teddy brings her breakfast in bed. Wonky triangles of burnt toast with cold butter slathered too thickly and strawberry jam slathered too thinly, along with a tepid cup of milky tea.
‘Happy Birthday,’ he says, grinning with the pride of a chef who’s just cooked a three-course supper culminating in a perfectly risen soufflé.
‘Thanks, Ted.’ Goldie takes a tentative sip of the tea. ‘This is very unexpected and very kind.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Teddy’s grin widens. ‘And I got you something too.’
‘You did?’ Goldie says, trying not to sound nervous.
‘Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it!’ Teddy laughs. ‘But I couldn’t buy it, so I drew it.’
‘You did?’ Goldie smiles, pleased that he’s drawing again, having so loved it when he was younger, and touched that he’s bothered to do anything at all. ‘Show me.’
Teddy scurries across the living room to dip behind the screens surrounding his bed. He returns a moment later, arms behind his back.
Goldie sits up. ‘This is exciting.’
Grinning, Teddy hands her a piece of paper. ‘It’s—’
‘Everwhere,’ Goldie finishes. She doesn’t need him to tell her, for it is the most exquisite rendering and he has captured it all: the unwavering moon, the meandering rivers, the misty air, the fog-shrouded trees, the leaves, every stone, shadow, branch and bird. ‘But . . . how do you know?’
He shrugs, but the gesture does not hide his delight. ‘You told me.’
‘Yes, but . . .’ Goldie grips the picture as if it’s a newborn baby she’s scared she might drop. ‘This isn’t just how it looks, it’s how it feels. It’s . . . astonishing.’
‘Then I’m an artist and a chef,’ Teddy says with a beaming smile. ‘Not bad for one day. I can make you a birthday dinner tonight too, if you like.’
With great care, Goldie sets the picture down beside her and returns to the breakfast, nibbling a triangle of toast from the inside out. She takes a deep breath. ‘It’s lovely of you to offer, Ted, but I was thinking we might get a takeaway. Your choice – anything you like.’
Her brother frowns. ‘But it’s your birthday, it should be up to you.’
Goldie smiles at him, thinking yet again how much she loves him. She feels a surge of fear at the thought of tonight and what’s to come. But she reminds herself of the fox and how easy and effortless it all was; it’ll be far harder with Leo, she thinks, when we don’t even have a body to house his spirit – but she’ll have Liyana and Scarlet too, and their powers will be at their zenith; together they can do anything. It’s okay, Goldie tells herself, it’s okay, don’t worry, everything will be okay.
Scarlet
Scarlet lies awake beside a snoring Eli, trying to ignore the siren call of the silent phone on his bedside table. He has been so kind to her today, taking the day off work to treat her to lunch at Core, where they had the £165 tasting menu and Scarlet ate the most delicious dessert – a deconstructed Malteser extravaganza – that had ever passed her lips. He’d given her the charm bracelet, wrapped in silk and kisses, and been as tender and kind as when they’d first fallen in love. Eli had, all in all, made every effort to facilitate forgiveness.
She squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep. She should be able to sleep; she’s never felt so tired. Exhaustion has pulled at her all day, as if she’s dragging a leaden anchor along with every step she takes. Growing a human is no small matter, Scarlet has realized.
She tries to forget her sister’s remarks, to ignore the insistent tap-tap of doubt, like a sceptical woodpecker on her shoulder. When will it go away? How long must she wait to feel halfway normal again? And, worse still, is it possible that she will never feel normal again?
She opens one eye to glare at Eli. How can he sleep? As if he’s done nothing wrong, has no guilt, no shame, no worries, no discordant reality to drag him from the delicious, hushed darkness of sleep into the blazing, harsh light of waking. How can he shut off all thought, memory and care?
Deep down Scarlet knows, in this battle of wills between her suspicious and trusting selves, who must win. Indeed, the victory has already been declared. It only waits to be admitted, to be announced. It only remains to be seen how many bitter nights Scarlet will drag herself through before she again prises the lid from Pandora’s box.
What are you waiting for? The woodpecker tap-taps with Liyana’s voice. You’ve buried your mother and grandmother, you shoot flames from your fingertips, you could roast a man alive if you so choose. You are a warrior, a witch, a wonder-woman. And you’re too afraid to pick up a phone.
The seconds tick by. The taunts echo through her thoughts. The clouds shift behind the curtains and moonlight filters into the room.
At last, Scarlet leans over her snoring fiancé and picks up the phone.
‘But, why?’ Scarlet is sobbing now. ‘W-why did you promise? Why did you swear? Why?! If you knew—’
Now she’s the one unravelling, she’s the one coming undone. How could she have been so stupid? So naive? How could she have fallen so far? Liyana was right. Once upon a time Scarlet was a Sister Grimm. Once she’d won every fight she’d fought. Once she had commanded the elements, once she had channelled great arcs of fire from her fingertips. And now. Look at her now. Destroyed by a single idiot, self-entitled human being.
‘Why did you do it?’ Scarlet wipes her eyes over and over again, wishing she could stop crying. ‘Why?’
‘Because . . .’ Eli mumbles. He sits on the bed, teetering on the edge, hands clasped. She stands on the carpet, far enough away to be beyond his reach. ‘Because I didn’t want to lose you.’
‘So . . . you lied.’ Her heart is beating so hard and fast she fears she might be having an attack. She presses her hands to her chest, worrying about the rush of panic through her bloodstream. But surely it can’t affect such an infinitesimal foetus just yet.
Eli is silent. It’s not a question and he doesn’t try to answer it, doesn’t attempt to defend himself against this righteous charge. ‘I’m so sorry I hurt you,’ he says. ‘I didn’t mean you to find out – I’m sorry you found out, I mean, no, I’m sorry you—’
Scarlet stares at him, incredulous. ‘You’re sorry I found out?’ she repeats, indignation all at once enveloping sorrow. ‘You’re. Sorry. I. Found. Out?!’
‘No, no, wait.’ Eli sits up, scrambling for words. ‘No, no, that’s not . . . You’re not, that’s not what I—’
‘Hold on.’ Scarlet stops him. ‘I’m not sure I – let me get this right.’ She starts to pace the room, walking up and down the carpet beside the bed. ‘So, you’re not sorry that you did it? You’re not sorry that you continued to see – to fuck – a woman you promised you’d never, ever go anywhere near again? You’re not sorry about the filthy emails – no texts, right, because you’re not a fucking idiot – just dozens of truly disgusting emails buried in a “Starbucks” folder you didn’t think I’d have the sense to check? No? None of that? You’re just sorry you got caught?!’
‘No, no, no . . .’ Eli reaches out for her, but Scarlet pulls back. ‘Yes, of course I am. Of course. I’m an absolute total scumbag, I know this. And I, I . . . I don’t know, I don’t know . . .’ Eli sighs. ‘Please, tell me what to say, what to do to make this right and I will. I will. I’ll do anything you want. All right? Please, please just tell me what to do.’
‘All right?’ Scarlet says, stretching out the word. ‘All right?’ She stares at him. ‘You know . . . I read an article once, about domestic abuse – that sanitized term used for arseholes who beat their wives. Beat them, rape them. Did you know that marital rape was legal until 1991? Nineteen fucking ninety-one. That was in the article too.’ Scarlet speaks in a slow, steady voice, as if explaining something simple to a small child. In fury, she has finally found her footing. No more tears. ‘And there was this woman in it, this amazing woman, the sort who can turn suffering into wisdom, right? And—’
‘That’s all very awful,’ Eli says. ‘But what’s any of that got to do with us? Is this a lecture about how all men are shits? Because, if it is I—’
‘If you had the decency not to interrupt me,’ Scarlet snaps, ‘then you’d find out, wouldn’t you? And, for the record, no I don’t think all men are shits – your sins aren’t mitigated by your biology – so, as I was saying, what this woman said was: “Hit me once, shame on you. Hit me twice, shame on me.” You see?’
Eli frowns. ‘Not exactly, no.’
‘No?’ Scarlet says. ‘I didn’t think that was a particularly complex point I was making. Cheat on me once, Eli, shame on you. Cheat on me twice, shame on me.’ She narrows her eyes. ‘Get it now?’
‘Hold on, hold on,’ Eli says, again reaching out for Scarlet’s hand. She snatches it away. ‘Wait, you can’t equate wife-beating to – who said that’s the same thing? Who said I would—?’
‘You,’ Scarlet says. ‘You did.’
Eli shakes his head. ‘No, no I didn’t.’
‘Oh, yes you did. “All men want to cheat and the ones who don’t are only afraid of getting caught.” Isn’t that what you said? Please, if I’m misquoting you . . .’ Scarlet pauses and, when Eli says nothing, ‘So, you will do it again. And again. And again.’
‘I will not!’ Eli shouts. ‘I’m not an animal, I’m capable of discretion and self-restraint. If being with you means that I can never touch another woman for the rest of my life, then I won’t.’
Scarlet glowers at him, this man she once loved, once trusted, so deeply. How could she once have thought him the most handsome man she’d ever met? Now she shakes her head. ‘You disgust me.’
‘I know . . .’ Eli takes a deep breath. ‘I know that I’ve done, that I’ve acted . . .’ He searches for the right words. ‘Appallingly. Without thought or care, with . . . presumption, entitlement, disregard. And I fully understand – I take full responsibility for everything I’ve done and I absolutely swear that—’
‘No.’ Scarlet shakes her head. ‘No.’
And this time it is clear, to them both, that she means it. A look passes across Eli’s face that Scarlet has never seen before. He’s a small boy again, stripped of all assurance, all self-possession. He is, at last, bruised and broken and she is the only one who can save him.
‘Please.’ Eli shifts off the bed and drops to his knees, wincing at the crack of bone on carpet. ‘Please.’
Scarlet says nothing.
‘This can’t . . .’ he says. ‘You can’t end it like this. Please, I – don’t, I just don’t . . .’
Scarlet gazes down at him; still she doesn’t speak.
Eli looks back up at her, his eyes pleading and brimming over with tears.
‘I didn’t end it,’ Scarlet says. ‘You did.’
And then she turns and walks away.
Everwhere
Liyana watches Goldie from the corner of her eye. They stand in the glade where three years ago they fought their demonic father and won, but Leo was lost and Bea too and Goldie was never the same again.
Liyana glances at the great oak tree in the corner of the glade, away from the river, its trunk still scarred as if struck by lightning. ‘Are you—?’
‘Don’t worry,’ Goldie says, trying to still her trembling hands. ‘I’m fine.’
‘We should wait.’ Liyana makes a last attempt to halt the runaway train. ‘The cards warned me that—’
‘We can’t wait,’ Goldie interrupts, her voice high with panic. ‘It’s tonight or never. Tonight we’re stronger than we’ll ever be again. We can’t risk waiting, we can’t miss the chance.’ Goldie regards her sister with wide, tear-brimmed eyes. ‘Please, Ana.’
Reluctantly, Liyana nods. Scarlet, who stands beside her, says nothing.
Standing on the riverbank, avoiding the glimmer of the water, Goldie peels her T-shirt over her head. ‘Please, can we get started?’
Liyana nods again and Goldie notices that she won’t meet her eye and wonders again at the secrets she might be keeping. Still, she won’t ask; she’s so close to the chance of getting Leo back now that she won’t delay a moment longer.
‘You should be able to swim,’ Liyana says. ‘What if . . . ?’
‘It’s not like last time.’ Goldie drapes her T-shirt over a long, flat stone. ‘That was unexpected, this time we’re prepared. Anyway, you can control the river, and Scar’s here too, so we’ll be fine.’
Liyana and Scarlet glance at each other, and Scarlet nods. For a moment Goldie wonders why her second sister looks so sad and she’s about to ask what’s wrong when her first sister interrupts.
‘All right,’ Liyana says, decisive now. ‘Let’s begin before the fog rolls in.’
‘All right.’ Goldie starts undoing her jeans, trembling fingers slipping and fumbling with the buttons. ‘Let’s get on, shall we?’ Losing her balance as she yanks off the rest of her clothes – only saved from falling by Liyana’s proffered stabilizing arm – Goldie takes a deep breath as she stares down at the water. Her heart quickens and her lungs constrict, as if remembering the night before last. ‘It’s okay,’ she mutters. ‘Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.’
Goldie glances up to see a raven settle on the branch of an oak tree overhanging the river. Bea flaps her wings and all three sisters gaze up at her. The raven’s caw ripples through the air, causing each sister to shiver with a shot of possibility and power, of hope and belief that all will be well.
Discarding their own clothes in turn, Liyana and Scarlet step forward to stand beside their sister. Goldie glances back at the three piles of clothes: unnatural, incongruous fabric hills among the moss and stone. Then she looks to her naked sisters, their skin shining and silky in the moonlight – one black pearl, one white.
They walk down to the edge of the riverbank, pushing aside a curtain of willow leaves, their bare feet seeking moss instead of stone as they creep down towards the water’s edge. Goldie’s eyes flick up and down from the river to the ground and back again, watchful of every careful step, this time determined not to slip on the mud. Under her vigilant gaze, the roots of the trees remain inert, waiting. While Goldie takes the steep descent slowly, Liyana simply leaps straight from the riverbank into the river, sinking deep into the flow before bobbing up again. Scarlet is next, taking two swift steps from land to water. Goldie, despite all her defiant words, is last, still clutching the bending branch of a willow tree as she eases herself in.
‘It’s safe,’ Liyana says, fingers spreading across the surface like the legs of a water-boatman. ‘It’s still.’
Sure enough, Goldie sees the currents slow and slacken their grip under Liyana’s touch, as if the whole river is relaxing. Moments later, massaged by Liyana’s fingertips, the water is as listless as Goldie’s heart is animated, beating doubletime in her chest.
Then Liyana reaches up to unfasten her necklace, cupping the carving of Mami Wata between her hands, giving it a quick kiss before plunging it deep into the water. She glances up at the sky, then at the whispering leaves of the willow trees, and knows that Sisi is watching and wishing them well and cheering them on.
‘Mami Wata,’ Liyana begins. ‘I invite you to soak up all the strength from all the waters of Everwhere.’ She pauses, before beginning the chant. ‘Ina kiran ku, Mami Wata, don yada ikon daga dukkan ruwa a duk Everwhere kuma kunshe da shi. When you contain it within yourself, we humbly ask that you pass it on to us . . .’
Liyana is still mumbling her incantation when a shockwave bolts through the water, pitching Goldie and Scarlet forward, but they right themselves in time to avoid sinking and then pull themselves through the river to stand beside Liyana, who lifts Mami Wata from the water and places her around Goldie’s neck, fastening the clasp, then taking her sister’s hands.
‘Scarlet will hold you,’ Liyana says. ‘And I will bless you when you go under, okay? You’ll be safe.’
Goldie hesitates. ‘Go under? Is that – do we have to?’
Liyana nods. ‘You must be fully immersed in the water, or it won’t work.’
Goldie takes a deep breath. She thinks of Teddy, how she must keep her promise to him, then Leo. ‘Okay.’ Tentatively, she leans backwards until her hair brushes the water.
‘It’s okay.’ Scarlet holds Goldie’s head as she lies down. ‘I’ve got you.’
Spreading out her body like a starfish, Goldie is anchored in one spot as the currents slowly begin to churn again and Liyana speaks the words of a spell which Goldie, with water thrumming in her ears, can’t make out. As she watches Liyana’s lips move time slows and stretches, swirling and idling with the currents, twisting and curling until Goldie cannot tell if she has been immersed for a minute or an hour or the entire night. When at last – scooped up by both her sisters – Goldie rises again, she feels it: the elemental force surging through her veins, as if her blood is swirling in unison with all the waters of Everwhere – every lake, every river, every ocean – the strength of a hundred thousand tonnes swelling in her body, ready to be released. Now she contains the power of earth and water both.
Liyana and Scarlet help to draw Goldie through the river until she steps up onto the bank. But, while she allows their support, she no longer needs it. Now she is a queen and they are her retinue. She is Gaia and Amphitrite, goddesses of the earth and sea; her sisters are nymphs. Now Goldie knows what to do, now she can do anything.
She hears an echo in the glade, words dropped from above: ‘You are a Grimm unparalleled, powerful as any ever known. Tonight you are omnipotent, tonight you are invincible.’
As Goldie strides across the glade to reach the place where Leo died she remembers that night: the light extinguished in his eyes, when he knew what was coming. An almighty ripping, as if an ancient oak was being torn asunder, hundreds of thorns torn from hundreds of roses, rising into the air, gathering like swarms of bees, a clutch of arrows aimed at his heart. She ran through the rose bushes, over the stones, the moss; she ran as the thorns flew but she did not reach him before he was impaled; she watched him crucified. A great crack of lightning split the sky, striking the trunk of the tree, flaying its bark and detonating Leo from the centre of his chest, scattering his dust to the four corners of the glade, leaving a glimmering white scar twisting from the roots to the crown of the tree.
When she reaches the scarred tree, Goldie drops to her knees and pushes her fingers into the soil, scooping up handfuls, lifting and letting it drop like a murky waterfall. Then she reaches up and presses her dirty palms to the scar.
‘Are you ready?’ Liyana stands behind her, beside Scarlet.
Goldie nods, but doesn’t turn to look at them, not yet.
Liyana and Scarlet press their hands against Goldie’s back, palms to shoulder blades, then step forward so they flank the tree. Goldie touches the tiny figure of Mami Wata hanging between her breasts, rubbing the snake that twists up her body, kissing her head three times.
Then the sisters take hands.
‘Ina rokon albarkunku, Mami Wata,’ Liyana begins. ‘Riƙe hannuna kamar yadda na kawo wannan dan kadan daga sauran rayuwa.’
‘Ina rokon albarkunku, Mami Wata,’ Scarlet joins in. ‘Rike hannuna kamar . . . ‘
Their voices rise into the air, sweeping up through the leaves, words wrapping around branches before lifting into the cloud-streaked moonlit sky. Goldie closes her eyes and remembers Leo. Not his death, but his life. In the greatest detail her memory will allow, she scans his body, the galaxy of scars along his spine, 268 moons and stars. The way he looked at her when they made love, his tenderness and vulnerability, as if his heart was an open wound in his chest. How her held her, how he cherished her.
‘Ina rokon albarkunku, Mami Wata,’ she whispers. ‘Riƙe hannuna kamar yadda na kawo wannan dan kadan daga sauran rayuwa.’
Around Goldie’s neck Mami Wata glows like an ember until she begins to scorch Goldie’s skin. Goldie clenches her jaw to contain the pain but does not open her eyes. The memory of Leo is so vivid now, so clear, so true that she can feel his touch, taste his kiss, hear his voice.
‘Leo.’
My love.
‘You’ve come back to me.’
You’ve brought me back.
Goldie opens her eyes and there he is.
He stands where the tree had been. Goldie’s sisters have gone. The glade has gone. They are alone in a place that is only earth and sky. The mists have sunk into the damp soil, the fog has rolled back, the clouds have smothered the moon, so all is dark. And yet, Goldie can still see him. They see each other as if they’re lit from within – as if their souls are two rising suns. They stand together, luminous, naked. Nothing separating them but their skins. And then, all at once, not even that. He’s inside her and she inside him. Finally, this total absorption, this mutual deliquescence Goldie has always longed for, always wished were possible. They are two liquids poured into a glass, swirling together until each is indistinguishable. They are particles of air, reduced to their essence, to the eleven atoms essential for life. They connect and recombine, fusing again into the molecules of a single being.
‘Are we—?’
Yes.
‘Is it—?’
Yes.
Again, time slows and stretches, sliding sideways, rising and sinking; and they are merged for eternity or a single second, or both.
There is silence, a cessation of everything. Then time is kicked into motion again. Quickly the dark fades and Goldie begins to hear other sounds – the chanting of her sisters’ voices – and see other things – the tree towering behind her, the vines of ivy wrapping around its trunk, the leaves falling from its shivering boughs – until she realizes that now she is no longer inside him and he no longer inside her.
A preternatural scream rises from the soil and descends from the sky. It pierces Goldie with the force of a hundred thousand amps, shuddering through her body and under her feet like the sudden shifting of the earth’s tectonic plates, reverberating through the air like close thunder.
Then all is silent again and Goldie is still.
She knows what’s happened. She doesn’t need to see her sisters’ faces or feel the absence of their dropped hands and their static shock. She knows that Leo has gone.
The soil swallows the echoes of Goldie’s scream and the aftershock settles, the agitation absorbed into the fresh still air like a billowing sail slowly deflating upon losing the wind. All is again as it was. The mists descend, the fog rolls in. The unwavering moon illuminates the moss and stone below. The raven’s cries drop from the midnight sky.
Everwhere has returned to itself.
And yet . . . Something essential has changed. Leo is here. As he always was, in spirit, but more than that. He’s closer. He’s tangible. As if Goldie could reach out and—
She extends her arms, fingertips twitching until her nails scrape the bark of the flayed tree. Shuffling forward on her knees, she caresses the scar, the mark of Leo’s death, the engraving on his headstone. She traces its edges, as she once traced the length of his spine.
As Goldie watches fresh marks begin to appear on the smooth wood, symbols she’d stroked so many times three years before: a constellation of crescent moons and tiny stars that spread like a scattering of kisses along the long, winding scar. Goldie’s eyes fill and before her sight blurs she presses her palms to the tree, reaching her arms around the trunk to hold him.
‘You’re here.’
I am.
Goldie
Still naked, she sits in the branches of the tree. Leo. It does not feel as he felt, of course. The scratch of wood cannot mimic the soft touch of his skin. But it is all she has and it is more than she’s had in so long, more than she ever thought she’d have again, and it is enough.
‘You’re here,’ Goldie says. ‘You’re really here.’
She has already said this a hundred times but cannot stop.
I am.
Goldie laces her fingers between two protruding twigs. ‘You’ve been here always, haven’t you?’
Yes, but not like this.
Her eyes fill. ‘I’d forgotten the sound of your voice.’
The warmth of Goldie’s hand seeps into the wood and is met by the life of the tree. Her skin responds, heating up as if she’s holding Leo’s hand. Goldie smiles. A tear rolls down her cheek and she wipes it away with the back of her free hand.
Of course, you haven’t heard it in three years. He pauses. I’ve heard yours almost every night.
‘You could hear me?’ Goldie sits up, uncurling herself from the trunk. ‘All this time?’
No, not at first. It took a while before I began to . . . coalesce, before I could think again or feel.
‘But you couldn’t speak?’
No.
‘I’m sorry it didn’t work, I meant to . . .’ Goldie’s vision starts to swim, fearing his answer. She takes hold of a branch again, gripping tight. ‘But are you still glad I brought you back?’
Of course, my love. Of course I am.
Does he hesitate? Does his voice falter? Goldie can’t tell. She presses her ear to the oak tree’s trunk. His voice is soft now, emanating from a knot in the bark just above the tip of the elongated scar. She sits high in the branches. Her sisters sit below, at the roots. Now and then snatches of their conversation float up, lone words snagging on sprigs of leaves.
Far below Goldie sees the fog start to roll in again, pulling its gauzy shroud over moss and stone. A slight wind whips up, trembling the boughs. Goldie closes her eyes and imagines that the breeze is Leo’s breath on her lips. She doesn’t know what to say now. She’s been waiting for this moment for so many years and now it’s finally here, she doesn’t know what to do.
She wants to weep and grasp the tree so tightly and kiss it so hard that it pricks her lips with splinters; yet she’s struck with a strange shyness, as if she’s courting Leo anew. All the things she’s wanted to say she can’t remember anymore and, in the aftermath of his resurrection, she’s almost speechless. But it doesn’t matter; she has the rest of her life to recall the past and enjoy the present and look to the future. It’s only then that Goldie realizes the great unexpected boon in Leo’s unexpected topiarian transformation: he cannot die. How has it taken her so long to realize this? If he had been resurrected as a mortal, then she’d have always risked losing him again. But now they will truly be together for the rest of their lives. And that, surely, is – almost – sufficient compensation for everything they have lost.
Leo
He’s no longer free. He’s no longer synapses firing and molecules sparking, no longer pinballing at random and at will through the infinite skies of Everwhere. Now he’s made solid, aware of his limits and reach. He’s a bird trapped in a cage; a prisoner sentenced to solitary confinement for a thousand lifetimes. Now the benign oblivion through which he’d soared has shrunk and his clipped wings beat against wooden bars. Now his tranquillity has been replaced by blind, claustrophobic panic.
Of course, Leo can tell Goldie none of this. He feels her vibrant joy, her voluminous relief. She is so grateful to have him back, so relieved that the resurrection did not fail; not completely. She wanted the moon; she got the stars and that is more than enough.
And so, Leo will stay with his spirit locked within the tree and he will pretend that all is well, that he too is joyous (for he is) and content (though he’s not) to stay for as long as Goldie is alive to visit him. He will save his anguish for the hours when Goldie is gone. Of course – though she does not realize this yet – when she finally dies, when her soul seeps into the Everwhere soil and her spirit is engulfed by the mists and fog, he will remain. There will be no escape for him, no release. He is trapped to suffer the eternal torture of immortal life.
But he will not ask her to release him, for that would break her heart all over again.
Everwhere
When Goldie finally steps down from the branches of Leo’s surrogate arms she takes her sisters’ hands as they help her to the ground. She sees Liyana’s relief and returns her smile. But when she meets Scarlet’s gaze, Goldie’s surprised to see her eyes shift colour to pitch black as a moonless sky. Then, just as quickly, they are dark brown again.
Goldie blinks, thinking perhaps she imagined it. It has been an extraordinary night, after all. So she hugs them both and kisses Leo’s trunk and bids him goodbye – till tomorrow – and forgets.
None of them notice the shadows that lurk behind the leaves of the willow trees, slinking back into the dark as the sisters walk past.