Page 240 of The Spider Queen
She nodded. “It would’ve been enough. The twins. Him.”
“You and I are different.”
“We are. But you’re allowed to examine how you feel about the ideas you grew up with. Challenging your beliefs is in your nature. And there is something else to consider, something I think you keep forgetting.”
“What’s that?”
Cass grinned. “You’re immortal. So if you spend the next fifty years raising children, that leaves the rest of eternity to become really good at basket weaving. Or pottery decorating.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “You make an excellent point. By the way, hobbies have changed a tad since you were human.”
“I like video games as much as the next person.”
“Do you?”
“I do.”
“Good to know.” I snorted. “I guess I’m spinning out of control because for the first time ever, I can do what I want, be what I want. I have the time to cultivate skills and interests.”
“Are you interested in learning ancient Greek?”
“Not even a little bit.”
We walked in silence for a few feet, and then Cass crouched down to pick up a shell. She handed it to me. “Put it to your ear.”
“I don’t need to put a shell to my ear to hear the sounds of the ocean. We’re at the ocean.”
“Put it to your ear,” she said again.
With a shrug, I did as she commanded. There were no sounds of the sea coming from the shell, but singing. It was so hauntingly beautiful and so full of pain it brought tears to my eyes.
“What is this?” I whispered.
“The Song of Grief. The merrow sing it whenever one of them passes to Atlantis.”
I closed my eyes and mourned with them; I knew for whom they grieved. I grieved him too. I lowered the shell, unable to endure their chorus any longer.
“Atlantis is a real place?” I shook my head. “Of course it is. Everything we know is steeped in some version of the truth.”
“He’s at peace, Poppy. He is dead to you and I, but his essence, what you know as a soul is still alive and well.”
I snapped, suddenly angry. “He’s without his human family, and the merrow family he belonged to are still alive. He can never be with them again.”
“Do not make him out to be a martyr,” she said. Her tone was calm, and she hadn’t raised her voice. “He made a choice. Like we all make our choices. He let you go. Let him go. He’s at peace, and you should find yours too.” She paused, as if she wanted to say more.
“What is it, Cass?”
She shook her head. “You’re not ready to hear it.”
“That only makes me want to know it more. Tell me.” My voice softened. “Please?”
Cass inhaled a deep breath and then nodded. “All right.” She bit her lip, forming her words. “Your children will change the fabric of the universe.”
I trembled as sense of foreboding washed over me. “Children?”
She nodded. Her gaze slipped from mine to stare across the ocean. What did she see? Did I really want to know?
“All their fates are tied to humanity,” she said slowly. “Their futures are unclear. I cannot see what is in store for them exactly, but I know that they will face trials; their lives will not be without strife. But they will survive. All of them.”
