Chapter 6

I scrunched my eyes shut against the sudden chaos that wrapped around us. The air pushed and pulled with such force I was powerless to do anything but withstand the onslaught. It roared in my ears, a swirling whoosh of so much noise my head couldn't take it all in, couldn't discern what the sounds were, what was happening around me. I could only dig my fingers tightly into the sleeve of my godfather's robe and pray to survive the journey.

But just as quickly as it began, the rushing mayhem stopped, and I nearly fell to my knees, tugged by a whirl of momentum.

The Dreaded End caught me, gripping my elbows as he sought to keep me upright.

"I told you it wouldn't take any time at all," he said, amusement coloring his voice.

When I finally dared to open my eyes, straightening from my protective hunch, I gasped. "Where…what is this place?"

We were in the center of a valley, surrounded on three sides by wickedly jagged cuts of stone rising so high they seemed to blend into the black sky above. There was a bright sheen to the rocks, an almost translucent reflection, like panes of smoked glass.

There was a peculiar quality to the light. Above us was night, around us were dark rocks, yet I could see everything in crystalline detail, as if it were a bright summer day. I'd never known there were so many shades and shapes in the shadows.

But my godfather was almost indiscernible from the landscape, a black smudge on a black background. I could only make out the gleam of his eyes, shining with otherworldly luminescence, when lightning jumped from cloud to cloud overhead. They reminded me of the glowing eyes of cats that would often prowl the barn at night, searching for rodents to pounce upon and eat. The bobbing green lights had terrorized me when I'd been smaller and certain they were the eyes of tiny creeping cauchemars, scurrying about the barn on gnarled tiptoes to sit on my chest and drain the life from me while I slept.

"This is the Between."

"Between," I echoed, glancing about the darkened valley. "What exactly are we between?"

His lips raised again in that strange approximation of a smile. "Many things. Here and there." He gestured from one rocky cliff to the opposite. "Life and death." He pointed to two other mountain faces, as if these concepts were actual, physical locations. "Your world"—he nodded to the hillside behind me, then tipped his head toward the one behind him—"and mine."

"That's…is that where the gods live?" I squinted up at the summit, but low-lying storm clouds cut off any chance of glimpsing the peak.

"Some of them."

He blinked at me.

I turned slowly, taking in the land around us. There were no trees, no shrubs or bushes or any forms of life beside us. The stark barrenness of it all made my chest ache.

The Gravia was a harsh forest to live in—full of bears larger than our horses, howling packs of wolves, mushrooms and berries and all manner of vegetation most beautiful but saturated with so many poisons that even a bite could kill you.

But here…

There was none of that here. No green growing things, no sparks of life.

There was just my godfather: ageless, eternal. I couldn't know if there was a heart beating within that monstrous chest of his, but I guessed not.

Why would a god need a heart?

Which left only me, and the realization of my singularity folded over me like a hand closing into a fist.

"You live here?" I asked, looking up at him. It was a strain on my neck, trying to meet his eyes.

"As much as one of us ever lives anywhere, yes."

"All alone?"

"Not alone," he corrected me, and I scanned the wasteland again, hopeful I'd missed something. "Not anymore." He patted my shoulder with an awkward attempt at affection. "Now I have you."

"Oh."

My godfather looked out over the valley with a frown. "I see now, though, that this might not be the best environment for a growing girl such as yourself. It's a bit…"

"Desolate?" I supplied, and was surprised to hear him chuckle. His laughter was a rich baritone and warm as spiced cider. It was not the laugh you'd expect from the Dreaded End.

"Yes, I suppose it must seem that way to you. What would help? Whatever you want, it's yours, you only need name it."

I pressed my lips together, awestruck by the sudden power given to me. No one had ever asked what I wanted, at least not in the way my godfather was. Sometimes Papa would say "Do you want me to box your ears?" but I was certain this was different.

"How about…a tree?" I said, deciding.

Surprise colored the Dreaded End's face. "A tree?"

I nodded.

"What kind were you thinking?"

My shoulders raised. "I don't know…. I've only ever seen the ones that grow in our forests—pines and firs and alders. They're very nice, but…" I struggled to find the words as my insides filled with a sudden hunger. Not for breakfast or lunch, though I'd missed both of those in all the day's events. I was hungry for something bigger. I wanted to see something more than just the Gravia. Something strange. Something new.

"That sounds very green."

My godfather spoke in that voice some adults use when forced to converse with children they're never around. It could have been irritating, but I thought it endearing instead. Of course the Dreaded End wouldn't be practiced in the art of conversation.

"It is," I confided, as if it were a secret.

He laughed again. "Then, Hazel, my dear, I think you shall quite enjoy this."

He gestured toward a patch of level ground atop the embankment across from us.

At first, I didn't see anything and felt disappointment twinge in my chest. Perhaps there were limitations to even the Dreaded End's powers.

But then: a sliver of movement, sly and snaking. There was a sprig of green pushing its way free of the glassy basalt ground, breaking the stone around it as it climbed higher and higher, growing firstin inches, then feet, widening from a little shoot to a sapling, growing bark and limbs, twigs and leaves. It grew taller than me, taller than my godfather, filling the space with a lush and proud canopy. The leaves were slick and glossy, and I gasped as flowers began to form. Not the tiny pastels of our meadows, but ones bright and bold and wider than my fingers could spread. They burst open like the frothy skirts of dancing women, and the pink of those petals left me breathless with wonder. I'd never seen such a vibrant hue. It was warm and wild and made me wonder what marvels lay outside the Gravia, what spectacles the world must hold.

Again, that hunger in my stomach began to rumble.

When the tree finished expanding, it gave itself a little shake, as if stretching, before falling back into wondrous placidity.

"Do you like it?" my godfather asked, worry ringing in his question.

"It's the most marvelous thing I've ever seen," I said, climbing the embankment for a closer look. "What is it called?"

He shrugged. "It's the first of its kind. What would you like to name it?"

I'd been on tiptoe, reaching up to touch a blossom, but his words brought me to a sudden halt. "What do you mean?"

"I tried thinking up what sort of thing would most appeal to you and—" He fluttered his fingers.

I looked up the dark trunk to the twisting branches above. "This is the only tree like it?"

"In all the world," he said, looking pleased with his creation.

I felt as if a battering ram had struck me in the chest. "It's all alone."

My words hung in the air, impossibly small and sad.

I knew what it was like to be unique, a thing different from the rest of your brothers and sisters. Hand-selected by a god, but not. It set you apart, made you unable to fit into any space you occupied.

His eyes softened, as if he instantly understood my distress. "It doesn't have to be," he said hastily, and snapped his fingers, once, twice, three times. Enough snaps for a whole orchard, enough trees to ensure that the original was never alone.

When he was finished, the hillside was covered in wondrous shades of green and pink. The flowers danced in the breeze my godfather himself had stirred, working as a master artist might before a blank canvas.

"It's so magical," I whispered. My arms were outstretched and my head was thrown back as I spun in circles, trying to capture every beautiful detail of this newly created grove.

"Not magic," my godfather corrected me, sounding sharper than I'd ever heard him.

The swift change in tone was so abrupt, I stumbled in my dance, coming to a stop.

"Power," he said. "There's a difference between the two, don't you see?"

I didn't, not truly. I had never experienced magic and had never held power of my own. I couldn't begin to think what differences there were between the two. Both seemed far, far away from anything I could ever attain.

He wandered over to a nearby boulder and perched on its edge. His dark robes spread out over the onyx surface, wafting from him like so many layers of mist. He gestured for me to join him and I did, my feet moving most reluctantly toward this old god.

"Magic is nothing—a trick of the mind, a sleight of hand. It's mechanical and perfunctory. A skill performed well, but a simple maneuver nonetheless." I nearly jumped out of my skin when he reached up and plucked a gold coin from behind my ear. "See? The coin was always here." The disc tumbled across the ridges of his first knuckles and he tucked it neatly between his fingers, secreting it away with deft grace.

"Is that what you gave Mama?" I asked, taking the money from him and trying to replicate the trick. "Hidden coins?"

He made a thoughtful noise as he considered my question. "Yes and no."

"I guess I don't understand, then," I admitted, letting the coin come to rest in my palm. I couldn't hide it as easily as he did. Every time I raised my hand to pull it from thin air, it rolled free, dropping to the hard ground with a clink.

"Those coins already existed, but they weren't hidden between my fingers or squirreled away in any pockets in this." He lifted his shoulders, letting the swell of fabric rise and fall around him.

"It does look like a really good place to hide things," I told him, and he let out a loud laugh.

"It is, Hazel. It truly is."

"If this is ‘magic,'?" I said, dismissing the word in an echo of my godfather's scorn as I waved the coin back and forth, "what's that?" I nodded toward the trees.

"That's power. Real power. Creation." He held out his hand and we watched another green shoot form. It wasn't as full as the trees; it was only a little flower. Wide, waxy leaves unfurled around a single stalk. The petals were a deep purple and shaped like an upside-down bell. "And destruction."

The petals darkened, turning themselves and the leaves black. They dried into raspy husks before crumbling like ash.

"That flower didn't exist anywhere until I made it. And it only disappeared when I willed it."

"That seems awfully magical to me," I admitted, tracing my fingertip over his palm. The sooty remains of the flower, indiscernible against his skin, stained my fingers with stark contrast.

"I suppose to a mortal it must," he allowed. "We'll mull over these concepts a great deal, I think."

"We will?"

I looked across the grove of shimmering pink trees as I tried to picture what my life here would be like, what my days with my godfather—with this god —would look like. How everything wouldbe.

He offered a gentle smile. "Yes. You see, Hazel, I have for you another birthday gift."