Secret Places and Hidden Things

Chapter Twenty

Marelle was walking down a tree-lined road, the leaves rustling like dry paper. It was fall here, and the sun was low on the horizon. The shadows were long and dark, a golden light glittering on her red hair, setting her eyes ablaze. Her face was impassive, blank and emotionless. She was beyond care, beyond anger. All that was left was a shell—a body—driven by a singular desire.

Far in the distance, at the vanishing point of the road, a white glow appeared like a star. She had her own star. She held her hand aloft, the stone on her ring facing out from her palm, and an immense light flared, blurring out the shadows from the sun. The world became a heatmap, white trunks and pink leaves shimmering in mirage. She closed her hand. The light went out but the heat remained, and the forest was set ablaze.

The small light persisted, nonetheless, and leaves grew within the fire. The heat was replaced with a cool breeze. The world shrugged off her challenge.

Marelle opened her fist again, her face unchanged. The light appeared again. It was not stronger, but more persistent. It did not flare more quickly, nor did it pierce deeper, but its push was steady. She did not close her hand this time.

The white light remained, growing ever larger as it approached. Marelle stopped moving and waited. The light resolved into a woman. Jain was not burning, like the trees. She was not hot, and did not radiate any more light than Marelle. She was a stillness within the burning chaos and somehow held the world in shape. The trees should have died. The earth should have burnt away and the sky should have been torn to pieces. The stars should be falling from the heavens and the moon should have transformed to a ball of ash. Yet, it was all still there, just as it had been before, consumed by the flames but never failing.

Jain stopped a few feet away. She didn't say anything, she just waited patiently. Marelle closed her hand.

"It isn't going to work," Jain said.

"I know," Marelle said, "but I can't do anything else."

"It's okay," Jain said. "You don't have to keep hurting yourself. There's nothing wrong with being broken. There's noting wrong with failure."

"I don't fail," Marelle said.

"Of course you do. You just never learned it was okay."

A line appeared between Marelle's brows. Her eyes closed and she slumped forward. Everything around them leaned inward as if it was relaxing. "If I can fail, then that's all I've done. Nothing has been worthwhile."

"I don't think that's true," Jain said. "You have never learned how to live in the world. Failure is a part of creation. It's a part of existence. You don't need to try so hard, you just need to be persistent."

"But I've done so many things. I've sacrificed so much."

Here, Jain's face hardened. She stepped forward. "No. You haven't sacrificed anything. You've broken things you don't care about. You've hurt other people. You've destroyed things you don't need."

"How do I fix it?" Marelle asked. "How do I win?" She pulled the sword from its sheath and swung it forward in a single motion, the point ending at the base of Jain's throat.

Jain did not waiver. "Is this how you solve all of your problems?"

"Tell me!" Marelle yelled. "How do I win!"

"You can't," Jain said.

For a long moment the two stood, frozen in time, then Marelle thrust her sword forward.

Jain's hand flew upward and she gagged, a trickle of blood running down her neck. Marelle pulled the sword downward with a brutal grunt, slicing into Jain's chest, and she fell to her knees clutching at her ruined jaw. From out of the wound the bird came flying, more massive than it had ever been. Through her mouth, through the hole in her chest, through her hands, through her eyes, it came flocking out in jagged pieces, tearing her apart even while it left her whole. Like some dark cloud filling the sky, it spread its wings, then plunged its beak into Marelle's heart.