That earned a laugh from me, but my amusement was fleeting. I chewed on my lip. “I was thinking about how I used to beg her to tell me where she was from. She never spoke of her home, not even once. I didn’t even know her name…until the end.”
My voice softened. “I dreamt about her last night. To be honest, I can’t remember most of it.” I swallowed hard. “But when I close my eyes, I can still see the island as she did. I don’t want to lose that.”
“Then tell me,” he said. “Let me help you remember.”
I drew a deep breath, trying to summon Channari’s yearning to escape into the jungle. “She had names for everything, even the flowers that cling to the trees like strings of beads and pearls.” My voice grew thick as I went on. “She knew which barks cured stomachaches, which ferns tasted sweet if you fermented them long enough, and which petals turned bitter when you boiled them. She knew where to find orchids for every color of the sunrise, and how to soften palm fruits to glean their precious oil. She even knew where to find fireflies at night—by the low grassy hills beside the jungle—so that if her lantern were to go out, she could still find her way back to her adah’s house.”
I faltered then, my mouth going dry. “This was her home. After all these years, I finally know where she came from.”
Takkan said nothing, but he reached for my hand. I found that was all the comfort I needed.
The sacred tree wasn’t far from where our basket had landed, but I never would have found it without Oshli. He led us through a narrow ravine overgrown by bamboo and palm trees.
There, among a thicket of pale-barked birch and a sprawling field of white moon orchids, was a withered tree, little more than a stump.
I blinked. “This is the sacred tree?”
“This is all that remains,” said Oshli. “The tree itself died years ago.”
“Yet you remember.”
“It is my duty to remember what others have forgotten,” he said solemnly. “But I am simply a vessel. Some memories slip even my tightest grasp.”
I knew he was referring to Raikama.
The shaman gestured at the orchids, and a pair of butterflies fluttered up from their petals. His voice fell soft, almost tender. “They were Vanna’s favorite flowers.” A pause. “Channari’s too. The sisters were like the sun and moon, different as day and night, but they both loved orchids.”
“Vanna is buried here,” I said.
It wasn’t a question, and Oshli said nothing as he settled his lantern before Vanna’s grave. My brow furrowed, seeing that the lantern was lit though it was still day. Its light shone upon the orchids, steady and unwavering. Then my heart pinched as if struck.
The lanterns, the light—they confirmed what I’d suspected all along.
He’d loved Vanna. That was why he’d never left Sundau. That was why he had stayed.
“Let their spirits be together at last,” Oshli said to me quietly, giving back a wooden box that I recognized. Inside were Raikama’s ashes, as well as the tokens my brothers and I had placed within to accompany her journey to the gods.
The red thread I’d tied around it was still there, its color dulled by time and sun. Seeing it, I felt my heart swell with emotion. I had sent the box all the way from Kiata, certain I would never see it again. Now here I was—halfway across Lor’yan, in Raikama’s birthplace—reuniting her with her sister, and her home.
Even after death, Raikama’s fate and my own were knotted.
“You are her daughter,” said Oshli, “and a sorceress in your own right. It is time to undo the curse that was set upon the sisters, and right the wrongs cast upon their souls.”
He departed before I could speak with him again, and I sank my knees into the flower beds. My brothers surrounded me, bowing their long necks in turn.
They want to give you a moment alone, Kiki said, sitting on my arm. We’ll finish patching up the basket, and torment some local birds until they agree to come with us.
I gave a wordless nod.
She touched my cheek with her head, then flitted off.
When I was alone, I set the box on the earth, among the gently swaying moon orchids. Using Raikama’s spear, I dug a small hollow and buried the box inside.
I bowed low, pressing my forehead to the earth. When my stepmother lay dying, I hadn’t had time to forgive her for all she had done. I had barely understood the sacrifices she had made for my family. Our family.
“I wish I could ask for your forgiveness,” I whispered to the earth, believing that, somehow, Raikama could hear. “And I wish I could forgive you in return. I wish I knew more than a sliver of your story.” The words burned in my throat, and I punished myself by swallowing. “I’ll always miss you.”
The smell of orchids flooded my nose. Raindrops shimmered on the white petals, and I plucked the loveliest blossom and laid it over Raikama’s ashes. “May your spirit find peace, Stepmother,” I said. “Whether you choose to stay here, among your snakes, or find your way to heaven.”
I bowed once again. Then, as I rose, dusting my sleeves, seven paper birds rustled out of the flower beds. The very same ones I had enclosed in Raikama’s box to accompany her to wherever she took her final rest.
They took flight, circling me as I stood.
They’re coming with you, spoke Ujal, camouflaged among the orchids. She slithered into view. What task did Channari set upon you, that she should watch over you even after death?
Was she truly watching over me?
I started to answer, but my jaw fell agape when I realized Kiki wasn’t here. No one was translating. “How…how am I understanding you?”
The tongue of snakes is understood by those we regard as kin, Ujal replied. My father shared with Channari an unbreakable bond. He was to her what your bird is to you. In a way, we are family—you are her daughter, I am his. But I couldn’t trust you until I understood why you carry that accursed gem at your side. Ujal’s sulfurous eyes fell on my satchel. The heart that cursed the Golden One, who cursed Channari in turn.
Ujal was speaking of Khramelan’s pearl.
“She asked that I return it to its true owner,” I replied. “That was her last request.”
Its true owner…Ujal let out a long, angry-sounding hiss. Is that what she called the demon?
Half demon, I corrected in my head, but I wisely left it unsaid.
Ujal’s tail snaked around Raikama’s spear, her scales turning red and black to match its dried blood. You asked about the demon she fought. My father warned her not to trust him, but she thought he was her friend. That was her one mistake.
She spat her next words. In the end, he betrayed her.
I’d already suspected, but now…I finally confirmed the truth.
“The Wraith,” I whispered. “He was the demon that killed Vanna.”