Leela’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “That was rather vain of her.”
“I thought so too at the time, but was it? I am not sure I believe anything I was taught anymore. I feel as if I do not even trust the very air around me.” Kandra stood and brought the lantern with her to the open door. “Estelle had a sharp mind, and her magic was strong. I could feel it when we blood bonded, a heartbeat that was more powerful than mine. Her heart spoke to me of the desire to know more, to be more. Sera was always looking to the planet for escape, but Estelle looked to the stars. She wanted more than just the knowledge of Mother Sun’s existence. She wanted tangible proof; she wanted a voice in her ear or a hand on her shoulder. She felt there was something missing in this City and that she alone could discover the cause and fill the void. She began to frighten me a little. And then I fell in love with Seetha and Otess—I found my missing tokens, that’s how I always put it to Sera. They completed me. My life changed, my purpose became clear, and Estelle and I drifted apart.
“And so I was not by her side when she died of the sleeping sickness.”
Leela gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. The sleeping sickness was the only disease that could kill a Cerulean, the only virus resistant to the healing power in their blood because it fed on their very magic. It came on suddenly, leeching a Cerulean dry until she was nothing but an empty husk. There had been spells of it throughout the years, though none in Leela’s lifetime. It would run through the City like a fever, usually taking several lives before running its course. There was no cure for it.
“The bodies of those with the sickness must be destroyed, so Estelle’s body was not wrapped in a pale blue shroud and released from the Night Gardens to find a home among the stars. One day she was simply gone. Hers was the third and final death, the sickness receding as it always did. It has not come back since. Only a few days after she died, a birthing season was announced. Otess and Seetha and I had been married for two years and were eager to have a child, though I confess it felt wrong to have such joy come on the heels of such sorrow.”
Kandra left the house and walked across the small field of grass. Leela scrambled to her feet to follow.
“I came here one afternoon, before any purple mother had been blessed, when these houses were still empty. I was scared and sad, and I hoped I might find comfort in the place where a new life would develop, where I would meet my daughter. I felt guilt at losing my friend, not just due to death but also neglect. Friendships must be tended if they are to flourish, and I realized I had been a poor gardener. I made a vow then and there that I would teach my daughter to value all her relationships in life and not take anyone for granted. I walked from house to house, wondering which would be mine, and I found myself speaking out loud, talking to Estelle as I once had, sharing my fears with her, and my shame at the fading of our bond. I recalled little things from times past, jokes we shared and games we played.
“I came to the last house and knew it was time to leave, that this place could not give me the comfort I yearned for. And as I turned, I saw her.”
Kandra held the lantern up to the obelisk. Ribbons of colors shot across its surface. “She stood right here,” she said, gesturing to the space beside the stone. “Her hair moved as if by a light breeze, though the air was still, and her cloudspun dress was threadbare and tattered, like it was disintegrating. She looked wan and pale but alive. Very much alive. ‘Kandra,’ she said to me. ‘I heard you.’”
At this, Kandra fell to her knees, a sob ripping from her chest. Leela knelt beside her, afraid to touch her, afraid to say anything.
“I thought I had gone mad,” she continued. “‘You are dead,’ I said to her. ‘No,’ she replied. Her eyes were so dark, like a night sky with no moon or stars. ‘And yes,’ she said. “‘We are all dying. It cannot continue. She will not stop.’” Tears spilled down Kandra’s cheeks. “Forgive me, Leela. I was so afraid. I ran away.” She crumpled, her head falling onto Leela’s shoulder. “I ran away,” she whimpered. “She called my name, she called for me to come back, and I ran and ran.”
“It’s all right,” Leela said, rubbing her back. She had never comforted a purple mother—or any mother, for that matter. It was usually the other way around. “You should feel no shame. You were frightened. You were seeing things.”
“No,” Kandra said, sitting up. “I was not. She was real. I know it in my bones, in the very magic that lives inside me. When I finally collected myself enough to speak, I went directly to the High Priestess. I told her what I had seen. I remember being startled at how quickly she seemed to take my account seriously—she bade me to stay in the temple and left. When she returned, she said she had searched high and low but there was no sign of Estelle anywhere in the Forest of Dawn. “Your mind is stretched to impossible limits,” she said. “Estelle is dead, Kandra. Grief can be a powerful thing. But do not fear. I can take the pain away.” And then she put her hands on either side of my head, and I felt a . . . a glow, a pulse, a gentle whisper inside my mind. Her hands were so hot, I remember thinking it was as if she was truly filled with Mother Sun’s light.
“When I woke, it was daylight and I was in my own bed, with my wives. They told me I had been out late at the temple conversing with the High Priestess, hopeful that I would soon be blessed to bear a child. Otess warned of being too pushy, but Seetha thought me very brave. I smiled and pretended I remembered what they were talking about. In truth, I could not recall a thing after deciding to go to the forest. I assumed I must have changed my mind.
“The very next day I was chosen by the High Priestess along with several other purple mothers, and I went to the birthing houses. They held no special significance to me. I had no memory of the previous day spent there. The only thing that felt any different was that if ever I thought of Estelle, she would fade quickly, her face out of focus, my memories pale and distant, like echoes. Until I simply stopped thinking about her.” Kandra pressed her forehead against the obelisk. “Until she vanished from my thoughts almost completely. Almost,” she whispered.
“So what happened?” Leela asked in a hushed voice. “How did you come to recall this? Why now?”
Kandra gathered herself slowly, her hands clutching the folds of her dress, her face twisted in pain.
“When Sera died, something inside me broke. Whatever hold the High Priestess’s magic had over me, whatever spell she may have cast, my grief for my daughter shattered it. I thought I was going mad when the memories came back, as clear as if they had just happened yesterday. I could not conceive of the High Priestess lying to me, or erasing my experiences. It simply did not make sense—she is our hope and our guide and she would never do such a thing, I told myself. I thought whatever these visions were had to be false. And they had happened nearly nineteen years ago, so how was I to even trust them? But it felt so real. And then you told me what you overheard in the Moon Gardens and I thought, ‘I am not crazy. The High Priestess is not who she seems to be. And my daughter became ensnared in her web.’
“I kept hearing Estelle’s voice, over and over, saying, ‘She will not stop.’”
They both sat in silence. Leela reached out and touched the moonstone, surprised to find it cold—her own pendant had always been warm when she held it. “Do you think she is still here?” she asked. “That Estelle is in this forest somewhere?”