Page 131 of To Dance with Death

Together with Moranya—whom Kastiel now calls Mercy—they begin to repair the lair. As they explained it to me, the magic is working to complete the realm, but still there is much to do if they want to make it right.

“Will the mortal world be safe from another herald?” I ask Kastiel the next day as he and Mercy accompany me up the trek of the mountain, where I might be closest to the aurora itself.

I asked to watch when the time came for this.

“Now that it is at peace, I should think so,” he tells me. “For however long that will last.”

That doesn’t exactly put me at ease.

But there’s one thing I can’t understand. “The Fates,” I say. “Was it really out of fear for Mercy that they vanished?”

“There are thousands upon thousands of worlds like yours,” he tells me. “But the Fates are not overlords, as some believe. We are abstract creatures, beings who wish only to live in peace with the universe, to exist blithely among the stars, and only when our attention is summoned through countless prayers do we turn our focus to judging the merits of a world. Most would prefer to exist in solitude. We do not have the same desires and needs as you—at least, not respectively. Mercy, of course, opened my eyes to new desires—ones I would be unable to quench in a life without her.”

“I know the Abyssal isn’t for souls,” I say. “But I very much wish I could read your and Mercy’s story for myself one day.”

“I imagine the new court will make many changes soon, now that the realm itself is healed. Perhaps that will be one of them,” Mercy responds, taking Kastiel’s hand. “Shall we?”

It takes some time for Moranya to restore the innocent souls from the aurora. One by one, she unwinds each living strand and coils it back together again into the form of an individual soul. I watch as they come into being one by one.

Hours pass.

Then one thread in particular feels familiar, even as she frees it, like a melody sung to me as a child. I know it for who it is. And when she reforms before me, it takes all my willpower not to throw myself into her arms. But her expression is peaceful yet blank beneath her short, billowing curls, her head tilted to gaze out the window beyond.

“Emilia?”

Slowly, she turns, and though I keep my breath hostage, a soft smile lifts her lips. “My soul knows yours.”

I hedge closer. “Do you…”

“Remember you?” Her smile inches up even more. “My memories feel distant and strange,” she admits. “It’s as if I’m looking atthem beneath the surface of the water. But yes, my darling girl, I remember you.”

A tear springs forth and drips down my cheek. I don’t want to overwhelm her, yet everything within me wants to crumple at hearing her voice.

“And look at you now,” she continues, her voice so heartbreakingly sweet. “Tell me, how has this all come to pass? There is much I witnessed from above, though I think many pieces are missing.”

“You…saw?”

“To an extent, yes. It was strange, being in the form that we were. But I have watched you since you set foot here.”

I recall when the tendrils of the aurora seemed to drift nearer, as if reaching out. It seems she’s been with me all along.

Emilia takes up residence in a beautiful suite within the palace, and there, we talk for what feels like hours. I tell her everything from the moment she saved me, and how I ran away, and how King Illian found me. She remembers her life as she would a dream, but though it’s distant, she’s kind and warm, and lends me her comfort, placing a hand on mine. It’s like having a friend returned. Our relationship is different—I imagine it always will be—and yet I don’t feel the sharpness of her loss anymore. Her nature is such that she always made me feel like family, even when I hadn’t wanted it. Her presence is as calming and reassuring as it always was.

“At least I can stay here with you,” I say.

She curls her arms around me, and there I fall asleep.

The next morning, when Emilia is summoned to join the newly established Court of the Just, I turn down the invitation to join and instead wander to Anton’s rooms.

His scent still lingers in the air, and recollections of our nighttogether before he regained his memories wrap around me like an embrace—and yet the space feels all the more empty for it. I gather his robe, still flung over the bedpost, and drape it around my shoulders before curling into his pillow, and finally let the tears fall.

Some hours later, I force myself out of Anton’s bed to seek out Sundar. Last night, on the way to Emilia’s room, I had introduced them—he had seemed rather taken with Emilia, actually—and promised him I’d tell him everything that had happened over the past few days soon. But I dread it all the same. Before I can start talking, though, he says, “The Court of the Just has summoned you, so hurry. You must follow me.”

Startled by his urgency, I follow hastily, and he ushers me all the way to the throne room. “Sundar, what is this?” I ask as he nudges me through the doors, my heart a palpitating mess.

Inside is an array of souls—so many of them, packed on the outer edges, more filling up newly added balconies that ring the roof above. A court indeed. At the far end Moranya waits, alongside Kastiel, both of them a vision on their thrones. “Vastianna, please approach.”

The quiet of the room makes me feel odd, every eye tracking my advance. Then, when I’m halfway there, Emilia emerges from the crowd and joins me, smiling comfortingly until we’re standing before Moranya. I want to ask her why she’s with me, what is happening, but she merely gives me a reassuring squeeze before turning her gaze toward the throne.