Page 52 of Ashes of Aether

Unless his silence means that he’s dead. And that the reason I can’t find him is because his body has been reduced to ash.

I sit there huddled on the street, surrounded by countless corpses. My entire body trembles. Cold sweat drips from my skin.

The sun rises higher in the morning sky. Its bright rays bask the white walls of Nolderan in a golden glow, and it makes the cobalt roofs ripple like sapphire waves. A new day is upon us, yet I remain chained to the night before. The events play over and over in my mind, an inescapable echo of the past. I watch as Heston murders my mother and raises her as a wraith. I watch as Arluin reanimates the dead before falling himself.

I would give anything to forget it all, to rid my mind of the ghastly images which haunt me.

And then the unbearable truth slams into me. I choke, suffocated by the terrifying realization.

My mother is gone. I will never again watch her paint.

And Arluin is gone, too. I may never know his true fate.

Tears burst from my eyes, bitter and heavy with anguish. It’s as though a dam has burst apart. Before, my heart was numb, unable to grieve, unable to feel anything.But now I feel everything all at once.

Pain pierces through my heart like a dagger. My chest feels like it’s being torn from the inside out. My breaths come out as sharp gasps as I struggle to breathe.

A part of me considers falling back onto the street with the corpses and letting exhaustion consume me.

I hear footsteps. I think it may be Branvir and his magi, having tracked me down in the hope I will lead them to Arluin.

But Arluin isn’t here. I’m not even certain whether he lives.

I don’t turn to look as the footsteps continue pacing toward me. As they pound furiously against the street, breaking into a sprint.

“Reyna!”

It is neither Branvir nor my father’s voice which calls my name. It is Eliya’s.

She shouts my name again. I still don’t move. She slides down beside me on the ravaged street. She pulls me close, and blood coats her hands as she clasps me. Grief blurs my sight, but I see the crimson stains blemishing my cerulean adept robes. It isn’t my blood. I don’t know whose it is.

Eliya says nothing as she hugs me. Though we sit amid this horrifying stream of dead bodies, she doesn’t flinch. Last night, she probably witnessed enough terrifying images to haunt her for an entire lifetime. Just as I have.

“They’re dead,” I croak out. By now, the sun shines upon us with its full radiance. “They’re both dead.”

Eliya pauses, stroking the back of my head. I can barely feel her fingers. “Who’s dead?” Her voice is little more than a whisper, as though she can’t bear asking such a terrible question.

I stare down at my blood-stained fingers. At first, words fail me. “My mother,” I gasp, my heart thudding as I relive her death. “And Arluin... I think he...”

Eliya doesn’t respond. She hugs me tighter.

We stay there for a while. The summer sun shines gloriously upon the street. I scarcely feel its warmth across my cheeks. The gentle heat begins to bake the bodies around us. Magi and guards soon appear, clearing away the ruins and corpses which litter the streets.

After some time, Eliya helps me to my feet. Her arm secures my balance. If not for her, I would have already fallen back into the stream of bodies. In fact, I wouldn’t have stirred at all.

“Come on,” she says softly. “Let’s get you home and cleaned up. Sitting out here on the street won’t do you any good.”

I know she’s right. Staying here will achieve nothing. I will only get in the way of those who are clearing the streets and trying to return Nolderan to a state of normality.

But I don’t want normality. It would mean accepting that my mother, that Arluin, are both gone. I would rather stay out here on the streets, dwelling on what has already passed. Because I can’t bear the bitterness of the present and would rather keep on rejecting it.

Despite all this, I let Eliya guide me away—if only because I lack the strength to resist. I am but a fallen leaf flowing down a stream, allowing the water to take me wherever it pleases.

Eliya draws aether into her hand. With her other, she clasps my arm.

“Laxus,” she says and then we drift into the wind.

We become one with aether, floating through the folds of time and space—through the fabric of reality. But since I already feel weightless, I don’t really notice the sensation.