Caillte
By the time the swell of bees had calmed to gentle currents and returned to their queen, light was dwindling. The small gap at the bottom of the grotto radiated blood orange. Though it pained Naokah to leave Brielle behind, once she and the bees were safely nestled within the walls of the citadel, she could ensure the sentries were dispatched the next morning. Luckily, the grotto was cool and damp versus the heat outside. Her body would keep.
As Naokah picked up the queen clip, walking past the bump-riddled corpse of Kjell, she felt like she was walking back towards the edge of a cliff. If the colony chose to attack, she’d be dead as fast as the Raptor. She channeled her inner Lenita, her adventurous Tati, for both would’ve walked in, heads high, without batting an eye. The queen moved languidly along the walls, her attendant bees close beside her like ladies-in-waiting. Her wings reflected the cerulean light from the glowworms above, emanating beauty, and more, power. A creator of worlds. Naokah focused on that facet as she placed, with great care, the clear clip around the queen, then moved her to her chest, cradling her like a baby.
“Your Majesty,” she whispered. “I ensure your safety. Would you mind ensuring mine?”
And then the first attendant bee flew to Naokah’s palm, nuzzling the clip. And the next. Their tiny feet tickled against her skin. She breathed slowly, thinking only of things that brought her joy. The food fight in the shanty’s kitchen, Lenita’s hands squeezing her feet as she fought a cold, Brielle’s first kiss. The waves of bees lapped over her, warming her shoulders like a cloak of sunlight. They covered her cropped hair, her neck, her arms, until the entire colony had concealed her, save her face. Maybe they sensed she needed clear vision to bring them home.
After carefully climbing from the seafront gap, over some precarious cliffs, she began her long trek back to the citadel. At first, her steps were rigid; she was afraid that at any moment, a bee would spook and sting. But as the watercolor sunset infused her with reassurance, with tingling hope, it dawned on Naokah: the cold, unremitting shadow cast by her sister was gone. Lenita hadn’t placed her in the darkness; she’d put herself there. Envy and doubt had kept her prisoner, yet it had always been her choice to gather the courage to step into the light. She was stronger, braver than she’d given herself credit for. She’d just proven it.
Her throat thickened. If only she’d realized this before, when Lenita was still alive. If only she’d had more time to press Kjell about what he’d done with her sister’s body, so that she might give her a proper burial. How had he done it? He wasn’t even here when Lenita disappeared. Maybe his predecessor? Who the razing was Enzo?
The bees squirmed, sensing her agitation. So, she tabled her questions for later.
And with that, passing by fields of sunflowers, she joined the bees’ rhythmic thrum, humming a lullaby. One that Matri used to sing, about a woman named Estrela. With a broken heart after losing her family, Estrela yearned only for a dazzling death. A flock of starlings heard her cry, lifting her high up into the sky, where she caught a ride on a falling star and soon joined her loved ones in oblivion. A little dark for a lullaby, but Matri, even before Tati’s exit, had suffered from bouts of melancholy.
Maybe Naokah was swept up in the moment, but the bees seemed to sway to her words, rippling softly against her skin. No, not swaying. They’d noticed her flushed skin, her perspiration and, just as they maintained an apt temperature for their hive, they’d begun fanning her, helping her cool down. If only Brielle could see her now, swept away in a bee breeze. Her new, magical family. Despite all the death, all the tragedy, for the first time since she’d stepped foot onto the isle, she didn’t feel so alone. Her fear dissolved with the synchrony of their wings, glittering like gems beneath the fading light. Confidence swelling, she trekked back up the cliff, past the waterfall, and followed the river by the jabuticabas.
She’d unfairly judged the Keeper, thinking her callous for treasuring her hives over all else, but Naokah had also misjudged the bees. They would not harm her. They knew, somehow they knew, that her intentions were good and had adopted her into their colony. Tears pricked her eyes as the violet mountain terraces faded into foothills, the rich, yolky sun melting into the peaks.
She’d wasted so much time dwelling on how Abelha had failed to meet her expectations instead of appreciating the isle for what she was – the beating heart that kept the whole world alive. She wasn’t perfect by any means, darkness lurked beneath, but did that detract from her worth? If anything, it made her even more admirable.
After the wind was stolen and Vindstöld hung precariously from the precipice of existence, it was Abelha who seized her weary hand and raised her up, nurturing the sole bee population for centuries, ensuring millions upon millions of humans and animals and plants thrived, all the while battling an enemy within. Abelha was a survivor, a warrior and mother, and Naokah, now more than ever, finally understood: like the isle, she too, had been fighting her own demons of jealousy and rivalry, of self-loathing and guilt, and continued grappling with them every day. Still, she, a woman with a debilitating bee phobia, had volunteered to stay on an isle brimming with them to save her sister. The act of a coward? Never. She was a good person, a better person than she’d given herself credit for, and was stronger not despite but because of her flaws, perfectly imperfect as Abelha.
The citadel no longer leered at her like a monster, but rather, her striking towers, wreathed in crimson ivy, seemed to wave, and her conservatory, sitting above the hedge maze like a diamond, smiled radiantly, welcoming her home. She’d solved part of the mystery, and now she’d find out what the gargoyle wanted, what darkness lay beneath its stone curves. The answer was near.
As Naokah moved closer, the sun disappeared, and navy blanketed the maze, dousing the flames of color left in the sky. Return before darkness, or you’ll never return at all. She entered the hedges, which lumbered over her like disapproving parents, warning her to move faster. She told her pulse to slow, so as not to stir the bees, but marching, deep and thunderous, sounded behind her. She shifted around, but there was no army. A cloud of darkness droned at the bottom of the valley. As it crept closer, it separated into small whizzing shadows the size of bees. Swarmed like them too. The lowest level of the hedge maze darkened to pitch black, and she sped up. The bees writhing over her began moving faster too.
“It’s all right.” She tried to continue Matri’s lullaby, but her mouth had gone dry. Within steps of the conservatory entrance, the ghost girl appeared beside her, eyes like sad voids. She bowed and opened the glass door, allowing Naokah inside.
“Take care,” the girl whispered, then faded into the shadows.
Dusk bled through the glass panels, and the chandeliers where Samara had lectured flickered before winking out. Naokah shivered, unnerved by the stillness, and the bees shivered with her, tingling her skin. Where was everyone?
“Come,” said a voice of lead crystal. Red stirred the shadows behind the lectern. The Keeper. “Follow me quickly, before the colony gets feisty.”
Naokah didn’t hesitate. She’d already witnessed the bees’ anger and had no intention of seeing it again. With the new moon, the corridor was darker than usual. Torches hissed as they walked past. Thunder boomed through the donjon, irritating the colony, and accelerating the Keeper’s pace until they reached a vacant hive at the end of the west wing. The Keeper held out her hand, palm up, and Naokah placed the clip with the queen in her hand.
“You’re home, dearest,” the Keeper crooned, then opened the clip. The queen crawled to her haunt. “Follow, my darlings,” she added unnecessarily. The bees had already begun shifting to the hive, the attendants wreathing the queen.
They poured off in great streams, lessening the friction that had been covering Naokah’s skin. Yet something dwindled within. Something she hadn’t predicted, couldn’t explain. Ice took the place of the bees’ warm comfort, and Naokah felt naked, vulnerable.
Not until the last bees launched off her skin did the Keeper turn to her. “Not what you expected?” she said, amber eyes knowing.
“I….” She laughed at the absurdity of it. “Can’t believe I’m saying this aloud, as I’ve never been more terrified, but after carrying them across Abelha, they became part of me, and now….” Her throat welled up and, startled, she peered up at the Keeper, who put a hand on her shoulder.
“Caillte would fit here, I believe.”
Naokah nodded, throat tight. The deep, aching emptiness she’d felt so long for Tati, for Lenita, paled in comparison to the trench the bees had razed down her sternum.
“The feeling never fades. It only grows stronger with time. A good thing, though. Exquisite pain, I call it.” The Keeper headed towards the library, heels clacking, a tide of crimson chiffon.
“What do you mean?” Naokah asked after catching up.
“They call to you like they call to me and the generations of those before us. It means you’re the right one to take my place. Now, hurry.” Sleeves fluttering, she ushered Naokah into the library and closed the door. More thunder followed, along with the heavy, thumping of – was that an army approaching? The Keeper nodded at Avice. “The bees are in place.”
The sentry strode to the large fruit salad tree that sprung up from the library’s center. The dome above, without the sunlight, bled red. She looked up the tree, spotted a prickly lychee, twisted it, and let it drop back into place. The tree juddered as if struck by lightning: the colorful fruit shivered, and heavy cracking resounded all around them. Whispers crawled up from the shelves’ shadows, and Naokah’s pulse lurched before her eyes adjusted. Why was all the staff here—
Legions of fat tomes rattled, peppering the dense air with dust motes, then the floor beneath hollowed, and the shelves sank, disappearing beneath the glass. Naokah glanced at the Keeper, who offered a reassuring if not smug smile. As the shelves dropped below their feet, sinking into the abyss, spritzing the library in musty paper, leather, and dust, a new scent took their place – that of pollen, honey, wax. A wall of hives on a track detached from its central spot within the citadel and slid, creating a curtain wall around them. Some of the staff, the distiller, the gardener looked stunned, but as for Naokah, the emptiness she’d felt upon leaving the bees melted away. The Keeper, after noticing her relaxed posture, offered a genuine smile and even winked at Naokah before turning to the rest of the group.
“Welcome to the bunker. Our home for the next twelve hours, should we last through the night.”