CHAPTER 56

Kana plunged into the water and hung there, several feet below the surface, until finally he popped up, gasping for air. He panicked, swallowed water, and flailed about. The river’s current whisked him through a roaring void of blackness. The numbingly cold water deadened his senses, making his legs heavy and useless. Time seemed to stop. He lost track of where he was and his thoughts faded to a flicker.

Then he saw a faint glow in the distance and a silhouette. Someone gesturing to him. He floated toward the person rapidly, which was an indication of the power of the current. A muffled voice called out. It was Soraya.

She grabbed Kana, clasped him by the shoulders, and yanked him out of the water. There was just enough light to make out Soraya’s features. Her eyes were eerily still and calm, as always, but her voice betrayed a hint of anxiety.

“Prepare the boat!” she ordered. “I’ll get your friends.”

Kana rose to his feet, teeth chattering, and moved toward the mouth of the cave. For the first time in days, he felt cold. Behind him, Kana could hear her pulling Marin and Line out of the water. Kana knew he should turn his attention to the boat, yet precious seconds passed and he just stood there, staring at the cave paintings in front of him—the swirls of blue and green paint forming vivid depictions of the sea and the forest. His father had made these.

My father.

Kana didn’t know his father’s name. He knew only that he had lived here and had painted on these walls.

And what of my mother?

Kana knew the truth, and still, it was hard to fully grasp it.

Moments later, Soraya appeared with Marin and Line in tow.

“What are you doing?” demanded Soraya.

Kana held up his hand, a gesture for patience. “I know we have to leave,” he said.

Somehow, Soraya understood.

“There’s the boat,” she told Marin and Line brusquely, pointing in the direction of the smooth wooden hull. “Drag it outside and get it ready by the river.”

Line nodded and left, but Marin stayed. Her face was terribly bruised, but her eyes were the same as ever—fierce and determined.

“Kana, I’m not leaving you here,” she said. “You are coming off this island with us.”

Kana looked at the ground. “Marin, go to the boat—please.”

“Promise you’re coming with us,” said Marin. She took his hand. “Promise me.”

Kana felt her cold fingertips and the warmth of her palm. “I need to speak with Soraya,” he whispered. “Please.”

“All right,” Marin replied. She left to help Line with the boat.

Soraya faced Kana and leaned in toward him. “You need to leave,” she said. “He will be here soon. And others will follow. He didn’t jump in right away—he doesn’t like the water—but he’ll swim after us when he realizes he has no other choice.”

Kana nodded. His eyes were drawn to the furrier boats painted on the wall. “How did he die—my father?” His voice wavered.

“It’s not what you think,” replied Soraya with a shake of her head. “He was older when he came, and something was wrong with his heart.”

“I feel like I have memories of this place,” said Kana quietly, almost to himself.

“I understand,” replied Soraya.

Kana nodded and looked down. Of course she does. She was here, too.

“What happened?” he whispered.

“I was young,” she replied softly. “And I was scared. By the time that you were born, your father had died. By then it was almost Dawn. I knew what was expected . . . But I could not . . . I left you on that rock instead.”

Kana looked past Soraya, at the painting of two figures staring down at something. That something was a baby—him.

“I regret many things,” said Soraya. She reached to touch Kana’s cheek. It was tentative and soft. “But there was no taking you back to this cave. They would have killed you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked with a trace of anger. “We could’ve . . .”

“We could have done nothing,” she replied. “There is no life for us together, just as there was no life for me with your father. Just a few moments.” She breathed heavily. “Now only one thing matters . . .”

Behind them, from the darkness, they heard the faintest splashing sound.

“Go now,” said Soraya. Her body stiffened and her voice became intense, almost guttural. “He’s coming.”

“Come with us,” pleaded Kana.

Soraya shook her head. “Impossible.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the cave opening. Tentatively, she placed her long fingers across his shoulders. Touching him like this seemed to affect her in a profound way. Her eyes glimmered for a moment—as if briefly coming to life—and then she staggered as if she’d lost her balance.

“Take the river downstream,” she continued. She leaned into Kana and breathed his scent.

“Kana—do not go ashore. The woods along the river are waking.”

Kana couldn’t move.

There was a second splash and then a third. The air in the cave grew pinched and close.

Soraya touched two fingers to his forehead. They lingered there for a second. Then she spun around and retreated into the darkness of the cave. Kana ran down to the water, where Marin and Line were waiting for him. They had the boat in the river and were already sitting in it, Line at the stern, Marin in the middle of the boat. Kana hopped in at the bow.

“Where is she?” asked Marin.

“Just go,” said Kana. His voice cracked, and Marin could tell he was crying.

Line and Marin both hesitated.

“GO!” Kana yelled.

Line nodded. With a powerful thrust, he dug his oar into the riverbed and shoved off, guiding the boat into the fast-moving current of the Coil. The river took hold of the boat quickly, pushing it downstream, beneath a thick canopy of trees and into the inky blackness beyond. Kana tried in vain to catch a last glimpse of the cave, but it had vanished.