Page 20 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
“You belong here, sister. The great hope of Av Madhira, a priestess-to-be,the white dove of our family. You have our parents’ love and a man who cares deeply for you, even if you are notliraes. I could never ask you to strip it all away for me. Our paths diverged long ago, but I did not want to admit it.”
Ninann reached a hand up to Apattar’s face, cupping her sister’s cheek, taking care to avoid touching the scars racing down her face. Apattar could not decipher the look on Ninann’s face, unsure if anger or grief clouded those seemingly forever happy emerald eyes.
“You will lose yourself,” she finally whispered before letting her hand fall away.
For nineteen years, Apattar lived for her sister and tried to show her father she was no different than Ninann. Endured every torture, every experiment to “save” her from something as natural as her hair. The weight of the act had nearly crushed her.
“I’ve already lost myself, Ninann. But out there,” she spread her arms, gesturing toward the southwestern horizon. “Out there, I might find my purpose again.”
“But, but… what about us? Do you mean to abandon me forever?”
The smile on Apattar’s face fell at her sister’s words. She spun toward Ninann and pulled her in tightly, breathing indeep, savoring the comforting smell of roses after a spring rain. Ninann laid her head on Apattar’s shoulder. Hot tears ran down the soft curves of her collarbone.
The two sisters stood there in silence, holding each other as they had done so often through their lives. Apattar wished she could stay in this moment forever, never forced to leave the other half of her soul behind. But the longer they comforted each other, the louder and more insistent the hushed whisper became.
This is a dream, it was always a dream. She walks in the light, but the shadows bend and shape under your will. You will die here, daughter. You will die.
Apattar cleared her throat while pulling away from Ninann, wiping the tears from her sister’s round face with a gentle touch.
“We are bound forever, fated to always weave our music together. I will never leave you, my little dove. Not forever.” The words broke as Apattar spoke, sorrow spilling from each syllable.
“Promise me. Promise me you will remember who you are. My black dove. Promise you will return to me happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.” A smile crept into the corners of Ninann’s quivering lips.
“This is my vow to you, as my soulbound. I cannot say when I will return or where I will go, but I will always return to you. We will be together forever—who else could ever love me as you do?”
Ninann slid off one of her golden rings, the thin band inlaid with deep red rubies like tiny droplets of blood. She took Apattar’s hand and slid the ring on one of her fingers, sealing the favor with a kiss.
“For good luck and a token of my blessing.” She paused as if thinking over her next words. “You amaze and bewilder me, Apattar. I don’t think I will ever understand what goes on in that beautiful head of yours. We are so alike, yet entirely different. Ilove it about you, and if it means you must leave, I will not stand in your way. Return to me—my only request.”
Apattar did not reply, merely smiled and kissed Ninann on her plump cheek. A confused mix of excitement and trepidation gripped her heart, thoughts of her sister and Saiya tugging at the back of her mind.
Anything could be awaiting her outside Av Madhira, but one thing was certain—nothing could be worse than facing her father again.
ten
A Black Land in a Black Sea
For three hundred andforty-three days—a full year—Apattar knew the taste of life outside her four marble walls. She walked through endless sands and parched, rocky ground until at last she found the desert did indeed end. Amber grasses and lonely, twisted trees towered above the traveler. She followed paths tread over thousands of years etched across the Sea of Grass, forever seeking the resting place of the moon in theWest. She ate little and slept even less, eyes wide, drinking in the world around her.
But now, hopelessness replaced her wonder. A damp cold clung to her very bones, Apattar’s body grown gaunt from a hard year of travel. The years seemed shorter before, each day blurring into the next. In the wilds, one year passed like ten. If not for the consistent lunar cycle, Apattar would have deemed the passage of time inaccurate.
Apattar struggled to recall the feel of burning, gritty golden sands under her bare feet. How the breezes off Lake Anataerl eased the oppressive heats of summer, and she never knew the meaning of true cold. Now, it was her constant companion in the dead days of the Moondark months, the world stagnant while Death reigned.
The rocky wasteland she found herself in was a miserable and lonely place, somehow more depressing than the isolation of her gilded cage in Av Madhira. At first, she welcomed the salty air. Yet, as the days passed and she explored the ruined island, the cold settled deep in her bones until even the void nestled inside her heart warmed her body.
Cold sea winds assaulted the small spit of land. They lashed out at her sun-drenched skin without mercy, pulling all memory of warmth from her thin frame. Apattar hugged herself, rocking on her heels, trying to recall what the sun upon her sweat-dampened skin felt like.
An ever-present dim orange glow on the northern horizon outlined a massive black mountain, its shadow dominating the world below. Apattar could hardly bear to look at the giant, for it evoked a grief so deep it cut through the ever-present numbness. But, try as she might to look away and turn her thoughts to escape, the task proved impossible.
A hauntingly beautiful music crossed the dark seas to the woman’s ears. It fell upon her like an enchantment, worming itsway into her heart and setting it alight with curiosity. She tried to use her gateweaving to summon a portal to the mountain, but something seemed to hold her back, stifling every attempt to cross the portal’s shimmering threshold. Now, it served as a source of heat on the ashen island, warming the starving woman.
Apattar learned about opening portals through gateweaving from books her sister brought in secret—though the endeavor proved reckless. After almost a year of walking across the vast desert and through the sea of amber-green grasses, she had come to a wide, fast-flowing river. The Andesiri, the Singing River of Gold, it tumbled over massive rocks, foaming like a rabid monster.
One of the Maiden Aslyren’s domains, the great Andesiri River held back the shadows of the West. The sight frightened Apattar, who only knew the calm peace of Lake Anataerl, rivers no more than words and blue lines in her books and art. She lingered for days on the banks of the blue monster, growing to love and hate the deep waters of the Andesiri River.
Though she never tried gateweaving before, the urge pulling her forward could not be ignored. But something went wrong, and though she tried to place the portal on the western banks of the roaring river, Apattar plunged headfirst into an inky black sea. The crushing weight of the waves pulled her under in seconds, a thousand hands dragging the woman down with all their might. The cold felt like it would freeze her solid, every cell screaming as jagged daggers of ice carved their way through her body.
Then, as if plucked by an invisible hand toward the surface as her vision faded to black, she ended up on a rocky shore. Apattar could only remember the hazy pale face of a woman with white hair pulling her from the sea. When Apattar awoke, she saw no sign of life or savior. She crawled across the rocks, bloodiedhands stinging from the salty waters. Collapsing on the black stone floors of a ruined building, Apattar passed the first night in a broken sleep, body aching from the sea’s assault and shivering to keep warm.
