“The Magistrate has a plan for that. He’s an intelligent man—”
My lip curls back at the sound of her loyalty, and I spin around to stare into the eyes of what I think a true traitor might look like. My sister, as firm in her stance as she is in her principles, glares back.
“It’s nice to see who’s side you’re really on,” I sneer.
Kalli looks away. To anyone who doesn’t know her, they might think they’ve struck a nerve, but I know better than most that glaciers, like my sister, have no nerve endings. She has always been able to separate emotion from logic, and it’s why she likely makes such an astute Senator, someone who’s always able to calculate the risks versus the benefits and make the decision that is likely to have the most profitable outcome.
“The only side I’m on is that of Arcathain,” she says, right on cue.
Now it’s me who turns away, rolling my eyes before inadvertently letting my gaze fall to the place where the demon had been decapitated. Dimitri and I have since disposed of the body and set it on fire, but the inky blood still remains, and every time I lay eyes on it, all I can think about is the other demon who’d killed it.
And every time I think about that creature, the demon who looked part-man, I become confounded all over again. It must’ve been some kind of spell that the demon placed over me to make me think it looked human. I’ve heard fiends can do such things. I believe it’s why the Crusaders wear those strange markings on their faces, to protect themselves from the influences of the tricksters. But I didn’t realize fiends were able to leave the Shadowthorn. I thought they stayed inside the black lines and preyed on those senseless enough to enter. Come to think of it though, that would leave for slim pickings considering no one dares enter the Shadowthorn but the Crusaders.
Still, I’m astounded by how believable the trick had been. In that moment, I could’ve sworn that I was looking at a human, someone with a demon arm, sure, but someone with their humanity intact all the same. His eyes had reflected that, pain as well as rage—human emotions that don’t belong in a demon’s countenance—but I suppose that’s exactly what it wanted me to see. What better way to kill a human than to trick them into coming to you?
I suppose it wasn’t that great of a trick, if the creature couldn’t entirely glamour its demon side away.
“I didn’t come here to fight with you, Halira,” my sister says into the quiet, empty home. “If you are so intent on joining the Shadow Crusade, then by all means, who am I to stand in the way of the one thing you’ve ever felt passionate about? I’m here today to put our parents’ souls to rest before I return to my business with the Mayor tomorrow. Can we do that peaceably, like two, mature siblings who have better things to do than bicker?”
I’m so busy bristling over her jab at my lack of drive, and then at the insinuation that I’m the one who started this squabble, that I nearly miss the truce she’s offering. The grieving, angry, ready-to-fight-anything side of me wants to yell back at her that I’ve been passionate about plenty, but then I remember that, for a woman who grew up impoverished and has secured herself a seat in the Senate, all by the young age of twenty-seven, my brief obsession with rock-collecting when I was ten won’t compare to the level of ambition she embodies.
Besides, I’ve spent enough of the past few days in this state of half-cocked. I’m exhausted. I’m depleted. And I don’t even know what I’d be arguing about anyway.
“Sure,” I say quietly. “Follow me and I’ll take you to their pyres. Dimitri and I finished building them earlier this afternoon.”
Fade into the Past
Murwood Hill, Gravenburg, Arcathain
Back before the Shadowthorn swallowed the forest behind my home, there was a clearing in those woods where we would arrange to deliver our dead to the beyond by burning their flesh. But the Blight has claimed that clearing, and so the citizens of Gravenburg are forced to say their farewells to their dearly departed in a new location on the other side of town.
I lead Kalli to Murwood Hill, a place I’d never really visited much until the past few days, but now I feel quite familiar with it. It’s far enough out of the reach from the Shadowthorn, and high enough into the atmosphere, that we can see through the black clouds to the bluish sky beyond. If I had known such a place existed so close to home, I might’ve found myself here more often, sitting on the grass with my knees bent, head tilted back to gaze into the forever above.
But as we crest the snowy hilltop, my gaze wanders no farther than to the two mounds of carefully stacked logs, branches, and kindling before us. Our mother and father, forever frozen in time, never to see another passing day.
Although I’m panting from the steep hike, Kalli looks as if she has hardly even exerted herself. Not a single strand of alabaster hair is out of place amid her dense locks. At least her nose has finally tinged itself pink, despite the thick and expensive wool jacket she’s encased herself in.
With her hands clasped before her, she wades through the snow to stand before each of the pyres. Both of the structures are tall enough to deter most animals were they to stumble upon these heaps before we were able to light them, but not so tall that we can’t see over them, can’t glimpse our parents’ pale faces.
Kalli looks upon our father first. I watch her cold eyes rove over him, searching for the signs of death that one would expect from a demon attack, but even this close, she won’t find any. I couldn’t stand looking at him the way he was, his chest cracked open like an egg, his heart and lungs absent from the cavity. Once we removed his clothes, Dimitri and I filled his chest with sawdust and pine needles before we redressed him for the funeral. Not only did it make my father appear a little less disturbing, but the added kindling will help his body burn quicker, his soul find rest faster.
A silent nod is all the farewell my father receives from my sister before she turns and steps toward our mother.
The two of them had always been closer. Growing up, it was not uncommon for Tor and me to tease Kalli about how similar she was to our mother, even though now, looking back, I’m not sure that was a bad thing. Like Kalli, our mother had fierce drive. Whereas my sister devoted herself to politics and the well-being of all of Arcathain, our mother held that same level of commitment toward raising her children and caring for her bees. She would rise before the sun and not settle for the eve until long after the three of us had gone to sleep.
They shared convictions about the Shadow Crusade, about treating the Magistrate with respect regardless of his and Father’s tumultuous past. When there was an argument within the household, you could bet that it was our father, Tor, and myself against Kalli and our mother. They even shared likeness for things the rest of us disdained, such as the earthy flavor of rye bread, the ear-shattering song of a barn owl late at night, and the stringent smell of onions.
Kalli reaches up to cup our mother’s cheek, but the second their skin touches, she yanks her hand away with a small yelp. It’s such an unusual show of emotion from her, that I actually look away, unsure of how else to react. Instead of glancing to me out of embarrassment, Kalli just hangs her head. I’ve never seen her so sad before, at least not visibly so.