Prologue

The standing stones reflected the colours of passing souls. Blues and greys and warm pinks and, in this place, many strands of gold decorated every personality. Annie was fairly certain that if there were stones like these on the other side of the boundary, the colours would be much less vibrant. She placed her palms against a sun-kissed rock twice her height, and closed her eyes. The memories were easier to catch here. The scent of them lingered, the same way the sun’s warmth lingered in the stone long into the night.

Nayn had wanted her to come here. He’d seen her tears, taken Dallmin’s letter from her fist and then taken her hand, leading her to this place. It was the only place she knew where Edenites sometimes felt an emotion that could have partnered her grief. They never felt grief, of course. Certainly never sadness. This place, though, was where they indulged in thoughts of people who had left. People they would not see for a long time. People they would miss. So perhaps they wouldn’t be quite so confused by her tears if they saw her crying. Nayn was very wise.

One glorious night, many years ago, she and Harry had celebrated her mum’s passing here, on this hill. It had been a night full of stories and singing, and the stones held the feel of her even now. Kiah Langley. Cherub appointed to hold the secret path, to protect Eden from fallen human greed. Annie pressed her cheek against the stone. Kiah Langley had not just been ‘Cherub’. She’d also been ‘Mum’. She had taken photos of every box construction Annie had brought home from kinder, and braided her hair on her first day of school. She’d yelled at Annie for using weed killer too close to the river, and always made her put her clothes in the laundry before she was allowed to turn on the telly. Her mum had taught her which songs she was allowed to sing in front of her school friends, and which were to be kept only for Eden, and explained that it was okay to teach her Eden friends whatever Playschool songs she liked. She’d also made up a lullaby just for the two of them. One with a pretty tune and words that made no sense, but that didn’t matter because it was theirs, and she had been ready with it when her own precious Lainie had refused to go to sleep. Kiah Langley. Best in Show four years running for her home-grown peaches and her fruit pies. Kiah, the woman who had tried to take down an organised crime syndicate with one clever phone call, and had believed it would be all that was needed to keep Harry safe.

Harry had not been brought here when he died, so it was right that Annie should spend some time feeding these stones with her memories of him. She knew that somehow, by doing that, some of Harry’s own memories would be drawn here too. Things she hadn’t seen herself, and yet the stones still found them, and shared them. A gift to those left behind. Of course, Harry’s own family had long since flown from this realm, so who was left for the stones to talk to? Perhaps she should bring Noah and Lainie here sometime, so they could add their memories of Harry, and re-live some of his. Of course, that would be tricky just now because Noah had built a great wall of rock in the cave between Nalong and Eden.

Annie looked up at the cliffs to the east. They towered even over this hill of stories. The Skin of the World ran along them, she knew. Passable only by Cherubim, like her. She could always follow Lainie out of Eden by climbing the cliffs like she had. Find Dallmin. Bring him home. What if he never returned? What if his stories drifted away, with no one coming here to celebrate him and feed the stones with his soul memories? If only she could talk to someone, ask for advice. She missed Harry. She missed her mother. Sometimes they felt so far away, exiled from her life with so many other memories. Other times, she felt she could simply turn her head and see them standing beside her, as if they’d never left.

Her tears darkened the colours where they ran down the stone. This was her fault. She should never have let Dallmin leave. It had simply never crossed her mind that Dallmin, Dallmin, could ever become tainted. What a mess she’d made of things. Dallmin was exiled, Lainie had died—again—causing Bane new levels of pain that Annie had been far too unpractised to guard against. She’d lasted less than a minute in Bane’s presence before having to stumble back across the Skin of the World to breathe in Eden’s soothing fragrance. And that boy, Jake, had run off with the holy sword.

There was more to this story. Annie could feel it, and had done so for many years. She had made a promise to her Guardian, but deep down she knew there was more than that promise holding her here. Lainie and Noah didn’t know everything they needed to. Nayn was right to bring her to the place where she could feel her stories, and her mother’s stories. Perhaps if she let herself remember, the stones would draw her Guardian’s and Harry’s memories here too, here for her to find, to feel, to live again. If she could pluck up the courage to face them.

Palms flat. Forehead pressed to the warm stone. Annie breathed in the colours, and remembered.