Fae, Olivia, and Sonya approached the tree at the top of the hill.
As they were walking, though, halfway up all three of them turned at once, looking back across the golden plains and flower fields.
Maybe it had just been the wind. But Fae had thought…
I thought I heard my mother’s voice.
The three of them stared at each other in surprise. The same thought had gone through all their heads at the same time.
“We all heard…?” Fae started, trailing off.
For a moment, the three stood there, listening. But none of them heard any other voices. Whatever they had heard… if it had been real at all… it was gone.
They climbed the rest of the way, standing before the golden tree.
“Welcome back,” said the Orphan of the Dawn. “Are you prepared?”
I—
Fae, Olivia, and Sonya all stopped, shaking their heads.
“Let’s keep our thoughts out-loud,” Sonya said, rubbing the center of her forehead. Fae also had a headache, and judging by Olivia’s expression, she did, too. Even though their voices were so similar, hearing other voices in her head wasn’t a pleasant thing.
“We’re ready,” Fae said.
“Wonderful,” said the Orphan of the Dawn. Fae thought she could hear her smile, even though she couldn’t see her. The full Orphan of the Dawn sounded very different from the Sojourner, who had been just a fragment of her soul. She was more lively, more emotive. “Then I would like to begin with a question. You have traversed the Echoes of Truth. What have you discerned from them about my nature, and why you are here? Beginning with what you know will help us get to what you do not know sooner.”
“I’m not sure we understand completely,” Fae said, pulling out her drawing tablet and going over her most recent sketched notes. “But… you called us, all three of us, seemingly at the same time. Well, for you, at least. Toryu said you existed somewhat outside of space and time, so… that’s possible for you, right?”
“Yes,” the Orphan of the Dawn said. “I saw all three of you at the same moment, and reached out to each of you at the same moment.”
“And by a strange and… painful… series of coincidences and incidents,” Sonya said, staring at her notebook, her voice somewhat shaky, “we all ended up arriving here at the same time.”
“It seems like you called the three of us for the same reason,” Fae said. “I still don’t… I mean… you’re entirely selfless, as far as I can see. Your entire purpose is to help others. You saw that all of us…” She faltered. It was difficult to talk about why they were called.
“We were alone,” Olivia said. She spoke softly, with a lowered gaze. “I fought alone on the wall of Renault, even though all other Guardians fight in teams. Sonya wrote alone. Fae drew alone. We weren’t… entirely… alone. Fae had Madeline. I had… my brother. But we were all…” She shook her head. “I’m not… that’s where it’s…”
“We were all closed off,” Fae said. It was difficult to talk about, but… there was a slight release of tension as she started. “Even though we had people we trusted and loved… we didn’t gain that easily. We didn’t trust easily, we didn’t open up easily. Even with those most dear to us, we still put up walls, kept our distance.”
“So you called out to us,” Sonya said. “For me, it was through writing. For Fae, through art. Olivia…” She looked over at Olivia. While Fae had always been following artwork, and Sonya had occasionally spoken of her writing, Olivia had never spoken up about what had called her.
“Music,” Olivia said. “I still… don’t remember. Not properly. But I can see the facts, like reading a book about my life. It was music that called me. Sometimes, when practicing, I would suddenly change from the piece I was working on to something wholly unfamiliar. No sheet music, no memorization, just… instinct. When the song was over, I was left with… impressions, I believe. It’s much harder to quantify and express than with writing or drawings. But that is what started me on my journey.”
“You always reach out to people through art,” Fae said. “At least, it seems that way. The artist who’s here with you, it seems he’s a part of that — a messenger on your behalf, or it’s a partnership, we’re not sure. For everyone you call to you, they’re broken, or hurting, or needing some kind of help. And when they come to you, you provide that help. Though I’m… not entirely certain what…” She bowed her head, trailing off.
“Surely you have realized it already,” said the Orphan of the Dawn. “Haven’t you?”
“I understand,” Sonya said, “though… I don’t believe I know so well from experience.” She turned to look at Fae.
For a moment, Fae didn’t know what to say. Silence stretched on, everyone waiting for her.
“Alone,” she said softly, almost to herself. “Closed off. Pushing people away, not letting them… in…” She looked up, understanding suddenly dawning on her. It was such a simple thing, and yet, perhaps because it had developed so slowly, she hadn’t realized it. “Relationships,” she said, gazing up at the golden tree. “When I left with Mercury, Jupiter, and Neptune I was just the same as when you called me. And it was honestly… difficult, traveling with them at first. They’re so close and happy, with no regard for personal space, and I… I was really uncomfortable. But over time… things changed. I didn’t even realize it, but now…” She looked at Sonya, at Olivia, and then down the hill, where Mercury, Neptune, Jupiter, and Madeline slept. “I’ve made… real friends on this journey. Friends I never could have made at home, back the way I was. And because of them… I changed.”
“And it’s because of how you changed that you were able to save us,” Sonya said.
Fae nodded, reaching into her bag and pulling out the candlestick bell. “A bell that brings hope to whoever hears it, but also magnifies the hope of the one who rings it,” she said. “I would have made fun of something like that before I started on this journey. I thought it was… a bit strange, when I first received it and learned about it. But now, it’s become a lifeline.”
“And it helped bring us together,” Olivia said. “A chain reaction, one thing leading to another.” She gazed up at the tree, and spoke in a nervous, hesitant voice. “Did you… know that all of this would happen? Is that why you called us at the same time?”
“I never foresaw the evil that would pursue the three of you,” said the Orphan of the Dawn. “I wish I had, and more than that, I wish I had power to prevent it. I am, in many ways, powerless beyond my own little world here. But I did see a connection between you three, a rare connection that transcends space and time.”
“You’ve seen this kind of connection before?” Fae asked.
“I have. It is rare, and it always has the same two traits: a thread that binds two or more individuals across time and space, and something you three have already noticed.”
“We look the same,” Sonya said thoughtfully. “This… ‘thread’ is why?”
“Indeed. Though I am sorry to say I do not know the nature of this connection. I have seen it before, but that does not mean I fully understand it.”
“But it’s that connection that helped you find us?” Fae asked.
“It is. There are, unfortunately, so many souls in need, and I cannot locate or reach them all. Connective threads like the one binding you three shine bright, and help direct my attention. The fact that all three of you suffered in the same way also aided in seeing and calling out to you. All three of you lacked the same thing. I hoped that you would find what you were missing in each other. But you have found so much of that already, before reaching me.”
“Tell us coming all this way isn’t for nothing,” Olivia said in a taut voice.
The Orphan of the Dawn seemed to laugh. “No, not at all. All that you have suffered through to come this far was not for nothing. You especially must know, right, Olivia?”
“What does she mean?” Fae asked.
Olivia reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Fae recognized it before Olivia opened it — that type of paper and the size was the same for all of the messages in bottles that the girls had received at the Celestial Shore. Olivia opened it and read it aloud. “ ‘Free now and forever from the Dragon’s hold.’ And below that, ‘The Blade of Dawn can cut the seals.’ ”
“Seals… oh!” Sonya said, flipping through her notebook. “At the Garden of Memory, the Guardian said that your memories had been sealed.”
Olivia nodded. “This Blade of Dawn… it belongs to you?” She looked at the golden tree as she asked her question.
“It does. But I forged it specifically for you, Olivia. So it is more accurate to say that it belongs to you.”
“And it will help me cut the seals on my memories?” Olivia asked.
“Yes. There is someone who wishes to speak with you as well, and after that, I will grant you the Blade of Dawn.”
A door appeared beside the tree, lacquered red wood with golden inlay. It opened inward with a soft creak, revealing a familiar sight inside — the studio Fae had seen before, and the amber-eyed artist within. He was seated at an easel, painting. The dim, warm lights within still left his body largely in shadow, and all she could see of his face were those amber eyes. But when the artist spoke, Fae recognized that warm, melodious voice.
“Please, enter,” he said, his eyes narrowing in a suggestion of a smile.
Fae led the way, and the trio entered the room. Fae had thought it a sort of study when she’d seen it the first time, as her eyes had initially been drawn to the desk against the wall, and the many bookshelves. But she saw now that it also had the air of an artist’s studio — besides the easel at which the artist painted, there were also instruments hanging on the walls, other paintings and sketches hung beside them. Sketchbooks, pencils, and erasers were on one side of the desk, and on the other side were lined notebooks, journals, and pens.
“Welcome,” the artist said. He continued to paint as he spoke. “You have endured much to come here — Fae, Olivia, Sonya. And there is still much ahead of you. I have a few gifts — final clues, you could call them, of what matters most for each of you. Our time will be brief, but I believe it will be most valuable.”
“Who are you?” Sonya asked. “We know you’re the Orphan of the Dawn’s messenger, but… there’s more than that, isn’t there?”
The man lowered his brush and looked up. Because of the angle of his hat and the position of the lamps on the walls, his face was bathed in deeper shadow now — and yet his eyes gleamed brighter. “You can call me Hugo,” he said. “I do serve as the Orphan of the Dawn’s messenger, but… hmm.” He had that thoughtful way of speaking he’d had when he first spoke to Fae, regularly pausing to consider his words. “This is not where I started, nor all that I am. Yes. That’s a good way to put it. The Orphan of the Dawn and I are partners and friends, and I am glad to assist her as much as I can.”
“Are you why she calls to people through art?” Fae asked, looking around at the various implements of Hugo’s craft.
“I help to… emphasize that,” Hugo said. “She has always called to the lost and broken through art — song, painting, drawing, poetry, literature, the stage. That is what has made our partnership so natural. I helped give her way of calling more concrete form, you could say. And I am able to work with her to help those she calls.”
A door — a door Fae hadn’t noticed, tucked between two bookshelves in the left wall — suddenly opened, and a woman with dark, slightly greyed hair entered. She was slim and short, yet carried a rather large stack of books without apparent difficulty. Her soft expression lit up in surprise, her mouth agape, words caught in her throat, as she noticed Fae, Olivia, and Sonya. “Visitors…” she said softly after a few moments, staring.
“Hello, Emmeryn,” Hugo said, tipping his hat to the new arrival. “They’re the trio I told you about. Fae, Olivia, and Sonya. They finally made it to the Orphan of the Dawn.”
“Ah!” Emmeryn smiled at that. She placed her books on the floor and dusted off her hands, then clasped her hands in front of her and bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Emmeryn, Hugo’s student.”
“Hmm,” Hugo said, raising two fingers to tap against his chin. “Your story is a fair bit more complicated than that, isn’t it?”
“I would rather not…” Emmeryn started, trailing off and ducking her gaze. She lifted her stack of books once more and brought them to a side table, piling them there and then beginning to sort them.
“But your story has value to Fae,” Hugo said, his gaze following Emmeryn. “After all — her sister seeks to turn the Key of the World.”
Fae’s eyes widened. Emmeryn turned suddenly, fear flashing in her eyes. “The Key of the World,” she said in a hushed, taut voice.
“Yes,” Fae said. “I… I didn’t get to talk to her about it personally, but she hopes to use it to prevent the Endless Night.”
“She seeks it to prevent evil?” Emmeryn asked.
“Yes,” Fae said. “She’s hoping that our group and my other sister’s group can help her find the location of the other two Keys and, when the time is right, turn them together.”
“So she’s learned that much already…” Emmeryn said.
“Emmeryn is very familiar with the Key of the World’s power,” Hugo said, “for she has seen it turned to selfish, wicked use.”
“Wait,” Fae said, not understanding. “The Key of the World… it can be used for evil?”
“Yes,” Emmeryn said, bowing her head. “It was forged at and by the Orphan of the Dawn, with the aid of the two great Travelers. It is a power of Light, bestowed by the Light. But the gifts of the Light can be turned to wicked use when in the hands of mortals, whose hearts are too easily turned to selfishness, too easily ruled by Darkness…” She looked up. “I sought out the Key of the World, long ago, with two friends. We sought it for research purposes, to understand it, to know what it was — not to use it. At least… that is what Terevalde and I believed. But the third of our party…” She hesitated, as if considering whether or not to speak his name. “The third of our party had his own designs. He ended up causing a great Tragedy through his evil use of the Key. Its reverberations still shake the world today. In the end, I… I had been writing a book. About the Key of the World, how to find it, how to use it, but also laden with warnings. After he wrought such an evil… I threw the book away. I could not destroy it, but I scattered the pages and never looked back.”
“Emmeryn came to me,” Hugo said. “It was at least partially by accident, but… hmm. Yes, we got along quite well right from the start, didn’t we?”
A small smile crept onto Emmeryn’s face. “We did at that,” she said, nodding. “I… I am grateful to you for taking me in. But I… whatever your sister’s intentions, I can’t —”
“She’ll only do good with the Key of the World,” Fae said firmly. “She doesn’t have a selfish bone in her body. But she’ll need your help. She has part of the book, some of the pages, but she doesn’t have all of it. If she’s going to do it right, she’ll need to know everything, won’t she?”
Emmeryn stared at Fae, taken aback. Hugo, for his part, chuckled. “Emmeryn, I do believe you can do some good here,” he said. “Won’t you help her sister?”
“But I…” Emmeryn bowed her head. “I am in exile. I failed, in so many ways. I didn’t see the evil he posed until it was too late. Though I did not cause the Tragedy with my own hands, I am complicit.”
“Then make up for it,” Olivia said. She didn’t have as emotional of a voice or demeanor as Fae did speaking of Delilah, but she spoke firmly and from the heart. “It’s been an incredibly long time since this ‘Tragedy,’ hasn’t it? Your exile has gone on long enough. Someone needs help that only you can give. You have an opportunity to atone for what’s been done, what you feel responsible for. Don’t walk away from that chance.”
Emmeryn hid her face with one hand. “I…” she said softly. Then she turned suddenly, retreating through the door from which she’d come. “I have a lot to think about.” She closed the door behind her, and was gone.
“Wait!” Fae cried out, but Hugo stopped her from following with a gesture.
“Please, let her be,” he said. “She has seen horrors you could not imagine. Worse still, those horrors were committed by a person she called a friend, and were partially caused by her own blindness to his intentions and her providing of information to him. Time and sorrow have left scars that will not easily — or perhaps ever — heal. She has spent much time here, in peace. To leave once more, even for the noblest of reasons… it will take a great deal of courage. So please… give her time. I believe you have said all that is necessary. And I will speak with her as well.”
“But Delilah needs her help,” Fae said. “I’m just supposed to… to sit back here and… hope for the best?”
Hugo’s amber eyes narrowed in a smile. “The way you are thinking and acting now shows how you have grown, Fae,” he said. “This will not be the last you see of Emmeryn. And know that I agree with you — Delilah will need the knowledge only Emmeryn has. I will do my best to make that happen. Now, then.” He stepped off of his stool and turned, facing the light, with his back to the girls. For the first time, Fae caught a glimpse of the color of his hair — it had an auburn color, and curled slightly at the ends.
Hugo reached into a drawer of his desk, and returned with three sheets of paper. “These are for you three,” he said. “They cannot be understood by you alone — you must work with each other to understand them, and you will also find the knowledge and talents of Mercury, Neptune, Jupiter, and Madeline to be invaluable. These are my final clues to you about what is most important for you. Do not take these lightly. But… do not puzzle too much over them here, alone. After you have finished with the Orphan of the Dawn, your friends will awaken, and… hmm. Yes. Toryu as well will be invaluable in understanding the truth behind these. They are personal, but you must share them with others. Do you understand?”
Fae and Olivia nodded first, shortly followed by Sonya. “Vulnerability,” Fae said softly. “We… have to be open with one another. We have to trust one another.”
“And you will,” Hugo said, his amber eyes narrowing in a smile. “Fear can only hold you back. Fear is not something that belongs between friends.” He handed out the papers to each of them, then turned away from them again, walking to the wall of instruments. While he pondered over them, Fae, Olivia, and Sonya each looked at their own sheets, and at each other’s.
To Olivia had been given a single sheet of music. Fae didn’t play any instruments, so she didn’t have any experience with sheet music, but it looked rather complex to her. Fae’s paper was a drawing, a strange vision that brought her both wonder and uncertainty. And Sonya’s was a short story, short enough that it only needed one side of the paper to tell it in its entirety.
But as they looked at their sheets in silence, their minds were suddenly a clamoring of thoughts. Words spilled over each other, and all three girls suddenly clutched at their heads, wincing. It took several moments for them to quiet their minds.
“It’s a lot to think about,” Sonya said shakily.
“Yeah,” Fae said. “But we… well, let’s try and save it for when the others are awake. I can’t figure this out by myself.”
“If we move ahead quickly, we’ll have plenty else to think about instead,” Olivia said. She carefully folded the sheet of music and tucked it in her pocket.
“Are you all right?” Hugo asked.
“We’re managing it,” Fae said. Sonya and Olivia also murmured their own similar statements, getting their thoughts in the open so none of them were hit by feedback from each other’s internal thoughts.
“I understand,” Hugo said. He finished what he was doing by the instruments and returned to them. “Here we are.” He held out a viola case, open to reveal the viola and bow within. His amber eyes smiled at Olivia. “You have not had yours on this journey, have you?”
“No…” Olivia said softly, staring at the instrument. She reached out slowly, hesitantly. When she took the instrument, she took it by the case, not touching the viola within. For a moment, she held it open like that, and then closed it. “I will… play it later. When I can work with everyone.” The case had a long strap, which Olivia slung crosswise over her shoulders.
“A wise decision,” Hugo said. “Well, then. Yes. That is all that I have for you. We may speak again before you leave the Orphan of the Dawn — yes, I believe we will. In the meantime, I hope that your time with her will be all that you have hoped for, and I will speak with Emmeryn. Let us trust one another, shall we?”
Even though Fae couldn’t see Hugo’s face… she did trust him. And she left with the others feeling a bit of hope.
“People don’t change easily,” she said softly, to herself. After all that Fae had been through and all that it had taken for her to change, how could she expect a stranger who had been through far worse to suddenly do as she wished? It was enough that she and Olivia had said their peace, that they had — hopefully — planted a seed within Emmeryn that would lead her, before time ran out, to aid Delilah.
Back outside, the trio gathered before the golden tree on the hill once more.
“Welcome back,” said the Orphan of the Dawn. There was a smile in her voice. “Now, then. I will get right to it. Olivia — let us start with you. For while you all suffer and have suffered, the suffering of sealed memories, of not truly knowing who you are and where you have come from, is a suffering that must be healed as soon as possible. Stretch out your hand, Olivia.”
Olivia did as she was instructed. Her alabaster scythe materialized in her outstretched hand, and she held it up. The white blade gleamed, and golden motes of light gathered around it, swarming to the blade and soaking into it. Brighter and brighter it became, until it suddenly shone with a singular, star-like gleam. The gleam slowly faded, until there was just a golden glow along the blade’s edge.
“The Blade of Dawn has always been yours, Olivia,” said the Orphan of the Dawn. “And now you may wield it yourself. Cut the seals on your mind. But be prepared — you will not be able to choose one seal over another. All seals will be severed with one swing. A great flood of memory will fill you all at once. Ensure you are prepared.”
Olivia stared at the golden gleam along the edge of her scythe’s blade. For a long time she stood there, silent.
And then she raised her scythe aloft. She swung, a single, powerful slash. With a blaze of golden light…
She cut the seals.