I buried Grandpa at the foot of the Great Oak that night. He always told us how he used to climb the tree as a young boy, and that they had grown old together. As soon as we dropped down into the whispering night-time forest, his body seemed to relax, almost as though he’d been holding on for just that moment. And I knew by the smile on his face that he was happy.
I stayed with him until dawn, watching the sky melt into soft arcs of light that stole down like pale angels.
I’d spent my whole life wondering how we’d survived in Arafel, but the real question was why? Isca Pantheon, Octavia, Cassius, Aelia, Unus, manticore, molossers, strix, Cerberus, August … they were all pieces from the same jigsaw, only I hadn’t seen it before.
Octavia had lifted the lid to Pandora’s box, and destroying Thomas’s knowledge or the Voynich wouldn’t reverse anything now. If anything, the blueprint for mythical creatures had only become more precious. It was life, in all its past glory, and our place was to protect it.
Come what may, nature finds a way.
Grandpa’s words echoed softly among the whispering trees, and a tiny purple and black butterfly landed inconspicuously on my outstretched hand.
I smiled. This feral girl had only just begun.