The Beginning

Once the flames have cleared, and the blood washed away; the fiends are destroyed, the slime of my city evaporated; the souls of those we’ve lost freed, and my own heart purified, I hope and pray that the twin cities can become a single city once more. I have high hopes for these LampLighter. They can save the city. Perhaps even purify it. But that might not happen for some time. Should I survive, I do have a hope that my brother and I can rule together; brothers on a single throne as our father always intended.

Ophelia heard voices around her, felt a cloth bathing her bare skin, and cold, clean water against her body.

She opened her eyes slowly, letting her eyes adjust slowly to the light.

She was still in the Tyndibar Well, but she was below a bright blue sky, with the sun high above. She moved her eyes but not her body. It hurt too much, particularly her left wrist. Beside her was a man she didn’t recognise, but somehow she felt safe, as he lifted handfuls of water and splashed it over her face. He looked down at her, his expression kind and warm, as his smile welcoming.

He lifted her head from the water, helping her to sit upright. She noticed now that she wasn’t naked as she had initially speculated, but rather wearing a simple cloth dress, the colour of cream.

How did I get changed,she thought. More suddenly, though, Where did all the people go? Time must have passed since she had passed out.

“You’re awake,” said the stranger. “Good.”

Who is he?She thought. His face looked somewhat familiar.

He was young, but his eyes had a wizened age to them that suggested his body didn’t display his true age. He had dark hair, almost black, and he spoke with a slow, soft voice.

As her senses came back into awareness with the rest of her body, she realised that the air she was breathing was not entirely fresh. In fact, she could smell smoke.

Everything that had happened the night before came rushing back to her.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m Pollock,” he said, “leader of Pollror, and now, it seems, Castore.”

She was surprised at her own lack of excitement. This was, after all, the true Architect. She was too tired at present to do much more besides talk, though.

“What are you doing to me?” she asked, as he washed another handful of water over her.

“I’m taking away your contract,” he said. “I was able to stop it before your hearthfly was released. Don’t worry. I’m nearly done.”

He muttered a few words after this, splashing the water upon her face. She blinked, looking up the sky wondrously. She had rarely seen the sun, and feeling its warmth against her skin was a strange experience. It reminded her of a smile; kind, warm, inviting. But at the same time, she thought of the fire that had consumed the city of Castoro. She thought of the dead hearthflies, and the dead fiends and the dead people incinerated in their homes. She let a few tears fall in their memories—the people and the hearthflies, that was.

“I have some questions,” she said.

“Ask what you please,” he replied. “I will do my best to answer.”

“Why is it you put contracts into people?” she asked. “Especially when you knew what it did.”
“At the beginning, I knew nothing of fiends. I thought it was just that in order for the contracts to be binding, we had to seal them in people. After we separated, though, I stopped putting contracts into people, and so instead Blessed them with no Obligaturgy. Those worthy of Blessings should hold no ties. It was my brother’s mistake in upholding an archaic ritual. Once he knew what broken contract would do, he should have stopped it. But in his arrogance and foolishness he refused to.”

She nodded. “So what will happen to Castore? To everyone’s homes?”

“The wall will come down, and the Well allowed to flow once more on both sides. It was my brother’s selfishness that caused the Well to dry up on his side. He redirected the flow of the water to his tower, and killed a man in cold blood in order to cover up his actions. Claiming the Well was tainted was simply a scapegoat. I hope that I can have the other side of the city built quickly, but for now we have emergency accommodation that people can live in until they’re ready to return home. It will be a long, hard task, but I think we can rebuild the city. In time.”

“Were all the fiends destroyed in the fire?”

“Most were,” he said, “and any left are being hunted down now. In the rubble, there would be very few places to hide without being touched by sunlight.”

They’re no longer human,she reminded herself, thinking of the hearthflies now littering Castoro’s courtyard around the rubble of the fallen towers.

“And what of those that can’t stay here?” she asked, thinking of Faulkner.

“They can leave if they wish and find lives elsewhere,” Pollock said. “Your contract has been completely removed,” he said, “and the waters have healed your wrist. You can go now.”

She nodded, bowing to the immortal Architect. “Thank you,” she said.

He simply nodded, remaining on his knees in the waters, smiling somewhat sadly. There was pain in his smile, but there was also hope. Hope that in time he could see the city peaceful once more.

She left the courtyard, walking a few metres down a short street onto a much larger area, where those from Castore had gathered, packed tightly together. It was madness.

There were names being called out left, right and centre, and people crying at the news of their families’ deaths as bodies on the other side of the wall were identified.

She pressed her way through the crowd, breaking into a dash as the crowd thinned.

She leapt up the stairs two at a time, remembering her descent down the Architect’s tower, and the pair caught sight of her only moments before she arrived.

“Ophelia!” Faulkner gasped. “You’re awake.”

“And never better,” she said. “How are both of you?”

“A little shaken, but fine otherwise. Nataniel’s body has been cremated. We’re yet to spread his ashes.”

“What of his mother and father?”

“They didn’t make it. They didn’t leave her home in time.”

“And so you’re both going to spread his ashes?”

“Well we were waiting for you.”

Ophelia smiled, comfortingly and pleased.

“Listen, Ophelia. I can’t stay here. This place holds too many bad memories for me, so I think I’ll have to leave the city.

Ophelia felt like a knife was being rammed through her heart. She had known this man for only a few days and yet she felt closer to him than she had felt to anyone in a long time. But she understood nevertheless, and hid her sadness behind a brave façade.

“Whatever you need to do, I will support.”

“Good,” Faulkner said. “I think I’m going to find somewhere better than this place to spread Nataniel’s ashes. There has to be any number of fields out there, and oceans or mountains, and I’m sure he would have loved to be laid to rest in those places.”

“I think he’d like that too,” Ophelia said.

“And I know it’s short notice,” Faulkner said, “but since I have no real possessions, I think I’m going to leave today.”

Another knife to Ophelia’s heart, but she fought back the tears.

“Hana, the storyteller Nataniel met in the prison has told us she would be more than happy to take me with her. She has a trailer, and money to buy some horses, so we’ll be able to cross the world outside quickly. And she tells me it’s not a waste, anymore, but a plain. Grassy fields stretching near and far.”

“If you have to, you have to,” Ophelia said, her smile beginning to waver.

“We’ll be at the city gates this afternoon at five, as the sun begins to set,” Faulkner said. “We’ll wait for you.”

“I wish I could join you, but I have a mother to support. I really will miss you.” Ophelia nodded and turned away from him to Elenor. “You’re staying?”

“I think it is what Nataniel would have wanted,” she said. “I don’t think I could ever leave her anyway. Maybe one day, but not now.”

Ophelia nodded, turning again to Faulkner. “I’ll be there,” she said, as she began to descend the stairs.

Sawyer!she thought suddenly, as she reached the foot of the stairs and caught sight of the boy, dressed in a fresh set of clothing.

“Hey!” she called. He spun around to face her, his expression brightening at the sight of her. His brown hair was slightly less dishevelled than it had been on the night of the explosions, and his brown eyes slightly less tired-looking.

She leapt into his arms, embracing him tightly, the young man surprised by her sudden appearance.

“Ophelia,” he said, “thank goodness you’re okay. How are you feeling?”

“Much better now,” she said.

“So no more LampLighters,” he said. “Fiends are all gone.”

“Yes,” she replied, “but I think I’ll be able to get another job. I’ll need one if I’m going to keep looking after my mother.”

“Yes, I saw her. The one in the wheelchair, right? Yes.”

She smiled, and for a time there was silence between them. It wasn’t awkward, but instead contented and comfortable, as if both of them simply liked to be in each other’s presence.

Ophelia felt her heart flutter, her head begin to spin.

“I suppose,” she stuttered without thinking, “I owe you for saving my life, and for stopping me from falling into the water once we passed through the wall. I don’t know if you were maybe interested in having dinner somewhere tomorrow night. I could use someone to talk to after all this.”

“I would love that,” he said. He leaned in quickly and kissed her on the cheek, and she let out a slight sigh of surprise. “I’ll talk to you then, Ophelia. I’ll meet you on those stairs at six o’clock tomorrow?”

“That would be perfect,” she replied.

*

A number of hours later, Ophelia found her standing just outside the city gates, staring over the slight incline across rolling, grassy plains, and hills and mountains in the far horizon. The sun was sinking in the west, its bloody red light casting its rays across the sky, igniting the soft haze caused by the dying fires in Castore.

A few metres to the right of her was a carriage, led by two horses, their reins held by Hana the storyteller, her black hair now braided. She was wearing a white shirt and a black skirt, and a cardigan over the top to keep away the soft autumn cold.

Looking across the fields with her, though, were Elenor and Faulkner, enjoying their last few blissful moments together.

“This is where we part,” Faulkner said.

“I guess it is,” Ophelia replied. Now she let her tears flow freely, unafraid that Faulkner would see them.

“Don’t cry,” he said, turning to her to take her in his arms. “I’m sure we’ll meet again someday. It’s just that for now I can’t stay here. Too many memories.”

She realised now that she hadn’t told him of his wife’s betrayal. She quickly decided to keep it to herself though. The man was haunted enough by his wife’s memory without having to question his wife’s love.

“I hope we will meet again, some day in the future,” she said.

Faulkner kissed her on the cheek.

She felt her emotions get the better of her, her sobs coming suddenly to her.

“Don’t worry,” Faulkner said, his eyes now beginning to glisten with fresh tears. “This isn’t really goodbye forever, after all. It’s only for a little while.”

Ophelia nodded. “I’m just going to miss you so much.”

It seemed for a minute that he had nothing to reply to that. His own tears quickly got the better of him, though. He hugged her tightly and said, “Me too.”

They broke free of their embrace after a minute, laughing at each other’s faces after crying.

“I’ve never been very good with farewells, so…” Faulkner paused, “goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Ophelia replied.

“Goodbye,” Elenor said, hugging Faulkner.

He climbed onto the carriage, taking the back seat next to Hana’s luggage.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and the sky turned dark, stars filling the sky, like hundreds of little lamps.

Hana flicked the reins, and the horses began to clop forward. Ophelia waved as the carriage travelled down the incline. Faulkner sat in the back, facing the city and Ophelia, waving. From beside him rose a small flame, flickering in a cauldron carried by the dragonfly-like creature.

A hearthfly!she gasped inwardly.

At that instant, one appeared beside her, illuminating her face and another beside Elenor, their flames warm against their skin.

They had shared experiences and friends, and now they shared one more thing. She knew now that she would never forget Faulkner, or even Nataniel. She had a hearthfly as a reminder.

She stood at the city gates with Elenor, watching as the carriage disappeared into the distance, the darkness too deep for her eyes to penetrate. What remained, though, were two pin-pricks of golden light—the hearthflies—shining, as if they were protecting them from whatever dangers they would meet on their journey to wherever they were going. After a short while, even these lights disappeared, like a flame extinguished by a LampLighter. It was only then that she turned away, Elenor and hearthflies at her side, and retreated back into the city, warmed by the hearthflies’ flame and heartbeat.

And for a moment, through the sound of the flickering flames, and the wingbeats of the spirits, she thought she could hear Nataniel’s voice coming from the one hovering over Elenor.