Chapter 36

Chapter

Thirty-Six

MIRANDA

" H e's beautiful, Viravia."

Miranda sat at the edge of a bed in a small room within the healer's house. Bright morning sunlight streamed through the windows, giving the illusion that the world outside was just as warm as it was inside the bedroom. The crackling fire at the foot of the bed was merry. The blankets were fluffy and soft. The walls were painted with flowers and animals.

And the tiny baby in Miranda's arms was fast asleep. Miranda had never had the privilege of holding a little one so young before. On Earth, illness and pollution kept babies, along with their caregivers, isolated for many months before they were exposed to the world.

He was so precious and tiny—little green hands clinging to her fingers and black nails so small it was a miracle all by itself. He smelled incredible, sweet and clean.

"He's perfect," Viravia said softly, her tone reverent. Her love for her little one transcended all boundaries and spilled from her face as she reached for her babe again. Miranda handed him back to her without hesitation. Had she been holding her own newborn, Miranda wasn't certain she would have let anyone hold him, perhaps not even Govek.

Viravia set the baby to her breast and the little one began to nurse with gusto. The slack expression on the new mother's face indicated that she felt no pain, and from the light clicking Miranda knew the baby was swallowing. Her milk hadn't come in fully yet but expressing produced a little.

Enough to put both Miranda and Viravia's minds at ease. She was producing, the baby was latching. At this point, the bottles she'd prepared would probably gather dust on Viravia's shelves.

"He's going to thrive , Viravia." Miranda hoped her confidence would soak into the worried mother. "Or should I call you Ovinia?"

"No," Viravia said softly as she stroked her baby's plump cheek. "Ovinia is gone. She was gone the moment I found myself pregnant. I can't go back, Miranda. I can only go forward. You understand, don't you?"

She did in some respects, but not in others. Viravia had accepted Karthoc's gifts for her and their child. The bedding and the babe's blanket were from him. He'd brought all of her meals so far. He sat out on the healer's porch, staring off into the woods, shoulders slumped, eyes vacant.

Viravia would not let him in.

But Miranda could not judge the woman. Viravia had spoken a little of the difficulties she'd gone through at Karthoc's forge. Of the trials she'd been forced to face and how hard she had tried to convince the male she had once loved to see her side.

Karthoc had much to make up for. A few blankets and meals weren't going to cut it. It would take a long time and a lot of therapy.

They didn't even have therapists in this world.

"How are you feeling now?" Miranda said. "Are you still sore?"

"Not at all," Viravia said, casting a relieved smile. "The delivery was a trial, but the orc medicines are a dream . I'm completely healed."

"Good," Miranda said with a nod.

"I... want to apologize again." Viravia met Miranda's eyes. "For lying to you... about this. And to Govek, but I am not sure he's willing to hear it..."

Miranda pursed her lips, uncertain if Govek would be receptive to an apology right now. Though not for the reasons one might expect. "He truly isn't mad about it, Viravia. Not after I told him that Tavggol knew."

Viravia licked her lips, eyes going earnest. "He truly did know. I know I don't have any proof that he did, but?—"

Miranda held up her hand. "You don't have to show him proof. He believes you. He remembers a bunch of things about your relationship that he didn't realize were weird at the time."

Viravia blinked, brows rising. "Like what?"

"Like the fact that the two of you didn't touch each other very often."

Viravia blushed. "He noticed that?"

Miranda laughed at the woman's shock. She couldn't help it. "Not at the time, but now that he's with me, he realizes how odd it was. He also recalls how often Tavggol willingly left you to go hunting with him or travel to Clairton. To say nothing of the risks he took trying to strike up that trade." Miranda looked down at the baby.

Govek had told her that if Viravia was Tavggol's true mate, carrying his son, he would never have risked his life in such a way. He knew his brother well, and nothing could have pulled him away from his mate's side.

Miranda would not argue. She didn't know Tavggol, but she also knew that Govek was likely projecting his own feelings on the matter. It felt wonderful knowing she was Govek's priority, but clearly, for some relationships, other responsibilities took a higher place. Karthoc was sitting out on the porch, barred from meeting his son, for that very reason.

"I am certain that this evening, after... the dredging." Miranda shifted in her seat. "Govek will be in a better place to receive your apology, but trust me when I tell you he truly harbors no ill will toward you."

Viravia relaxed slightly, nodding. Her little baby had fallen asleep at her breast, nursing lazily. The love that poured from the woman into her babe made Miranda's eyes well up.

"Are you going to be okay? With the dredging, I mean?"

Miranda smiled weakly, unable to respond because truthfully, she wasn't sure. Her stomach clenched and her mouth went dry. "I know it's what I have to do. I know that if I don't, it will haunt me for the rest of my life. It's just... I worry that if something happens, Govek will..."

Dang it, she really didn't want to cry .

Viravia clasped her hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "Govek has supporters here. He didn't see it until very recently, but now that he has... They'll take care of him, if something happens. I promise."

Miranda forced herself to smile.

A gentle knock sounded, as if on cue, and Wellia opened the door. "Miranda, Govek asked me to fetch you."

Far too soon. Miranda squeezed Viravia's hand tight, bid her goodbye, and followed Wellia out.

Govek was chatting with Karthoc quietly as Miranda crossed the porch that circled the healer's tree and started down the steps. They both stopped in an instant and turned to face her. Karthoc's eyes were so hauntingly hopeful it was difficult for Miranda to stop herself from giving details.

"She's well," Miranda assured him. "She and the baby both."

"She's getting enough rest? Does she need more to eat or drink?"

Miranda saw Wellia roll her eyes at Karthoc's questions. He'd likely been driving the woman mad with all his demands.

"I think she's fine," Miranda said.

"But—"

"We're going, Karthoc," Govek said gruffly, but he patted his cousin on the back affectionately before taking Miranda's arm and guiding her back through the woods. To their home.

"What were you two talking about?" Miranda asked, wanting a distraction from the tension growing in her gut. "Before I came out?"

"His plans. For the merger."

"He's still made Sythcol and Brovdir the new chiefs, right?"

"Yes. "

She pressed her forehead into Govek's arm and wondered how that would work out. The two males seemed like complete opposites to her.

But she didn't have the bandwidth to worry about it now.

It felt like far more than a day ago that she was dangling off that cliff. That Ergoth had tried to kill them both. A lifetime had passed them by in just a few short hours, and now another bright, chilly afternoon had descended.

She wished the dredging was already over so she could relish it. Look into these woods and know she would never leave them. Hold Govek's hand and be assured they would be together for the rest of their days. She wanted to get excited for her future. For the home and life they would build.

But she couldn't. Not yet.

"So, I was thinking." Govek placed a hand on her back. "After this, we should do some more ‘oozing' at the trade." Miranda's eyes widened, but he continued, "You can argue with them about math, and smack them with a salmon, and we can see if anyone is willing to trade for tools so you can finally get around to tattooing your name on my ass."

Miranda laughed helplessly. Dang, they really had gone through a lot. But they'd had so much fun too.

There was so much laughter between them.

"I love you, tough guy." She held his arm tight.

"I love you, Miranda."

Their house on the outskirts came into view and the laughter died away, but the tension wasn't nearly as high as it had been. Govek took her hand and guided her into the house.

The seer was already inside, lounging on the couch. " Hello. I hope you don't mind that I came inside to wait. Your door is still torn off, so I figured you wouldn't care."

Govek grumbled, but Miranda patted his hand and then went to join the seer. As she settled next to him, her anxiety grew so high she was almost vibrating from it.

Govek sat down beside her, crowded in, and pulled her against his chest. She leaned into him for comfort.

"So... um." Miranda gripped Govek's hand and pulled it around her waist. The seer sat up, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his cloudy eyes blinked. "How does this work?"

"You just take my hand." He readjusted and held up his large white palm to her view. "And the dredging will begin."

"Right," Miranda said as he reached out to her. Her stomach turned nauseous, and her mouth went dry. "Okay." Her whole body thrummed with the yearning to take it. Her palm heated, and her fingers twitched.

She couldn't bring herself to move.

Govek, noting her hesitation, asked gruffly, "Are you certain?"

Fear trembled through her, but longing did too. The soul-deep need to fill in these gaps. To discover the truth. To finally know what happened.

And what to do next. To know why she had really been brought here to Faeda.

To her new home.

"Keep hold of her, Govek," the seer said. "It will help tie her to this world."

Her stomach plummeted and Govek tightened his grip and all the terror and determination mounted in her mind .

She arched her neck, looked into Govek's eyes. "I love you."

His throat worked and he managed, "I love you."

She reached out and took Evythiken's hand.

She was flying through the air. Air that was brisk before suddenly turning stagnant, polluted. Mud and char coated her tongue.

Miranda's body rose higher, spiraled upward. Her hair whipped around her face, eyes streamed.

She saw the Pacific Ocean again, or where it was meant to be, rather. The endless boiled sand. The stench of rotting fish was so strong she felt like she was drowning in it. She couldn't get a breath.

She was on the cliffside, teetering, looking down at the dead Earth. She was surrounded by carnage. She began to scream but could not make a sound, wanted to look away but could not control her movements.

She scratched and fought and pleaded and the memories burned on anyway. She could feel dirt beneath her feet, her sticky skin, her matted hair. Her mouth tasted of mud, and her nose was burned from the bleach she'd used to keep the dogs at bay.

Her body jerked, flung around, forcing her to face those dogs again. Those rotting monsters. Those horrible wretched beasts that had chased her endlessly. Screamed at her. Snapped at her. Threatened death.

But they weren't dogs now. They weren't animals.

They were light.

A beam of white light .

Her mind scrambled to make sense of what this was. What she was seeing. She writhed and fought and continued backward through her memories. Working in reverse, running down the hill. To the cars she'd raided. To the milepost signs she'd passed.

To the camp she'd made the night before. Huddled on the ground. She clutched her bag. Eyes wide in the darkness with nothing but the endless howling horror of those dogs. All around her. Distant but close. Corralling her. She couldn't move. Couldn't speak.

But it wasn't howls, it was voices. Wailing voices.

"Keep going. Keep walking. Move."

She didn't want to move. She wanted to lie down and accept her fate. Follow everyone else she'd ever known into the abyss. Where she was meant to be.

She was supposed to be dead.

She wailed and screamed and walked across the endless desert. Walked backward.

There was nothing for miles .

Nothing but endless wasteland.

And road signs pointing her ahead to the ocean.

"Go to the ocean. There are people at the ocean."

It wasn't a sign.

It wasn't a fucking sign.

It was light. White distorted light.

Screaming at her.

Blaring right into her mind.

She worked backward still, all the way back to the city, which was no longer a city. To the buildings that were dust. To the roads that were rubble. The stench of ash.

To the vent.

No, no, no! She couldn't go back inside! She couldn't go back into that vent. Please, god, anyone, don't force her back inside!

But she already was—crushed, panicked, scrambling, and screaming.

Something tugged her, pushed her.

A body. A body made of light.

The eyes were like fire and she couldn't look at them. Couldn't look away. She had to get out. It was too tight. She couldn't breathe. The vent was too small.

The light drew nearer, and went into her, forcing her apart at the seams.

She continued backward in time.

Her body began to deteriorate.

Her flesh blistered.

Her hair sizzled.

Her saliva boiled.

She screamed and screamed and screamed.

Her body was a husk. Burned alive.

She had not escaped the explosion.

She had not survived the inferno.

She was dead.

She had died with everyone else.

She had died with her babies.

And then the Fades brought her back.

Her skin had melted, her organs had ruptured.

She'd burned alive in the vent.

And the Fades fixed her and prodded her and forced her to see truths so vile she'd imagined they were signs, whispering wind, howling, rotting dogs, just to make it seem logical. Better.

Her brain could not fathom that she had been brought back from death .

But she had.

And she'd gone to extremes to cover up that truth.

Now it was forced on her. She could no longer hide from it. She had to accept it for what it was.

The Fades were real .

The seer had seen it now.

Her job was done.

The light evaporated.

Everything went black.