Drowning in Fire

FOUR

Away from the dispersing Senatus, after retreating deep into the darkness of the old-growth forest, Aya folded herself back into the earth. With an aching sense of loss, she let go of her human body and merged her being with the land, returning to the true form of a Daughter of Earth. The borders between Aboveground and Within blurred and then disappeared.

It was getting harder and harder to do. One day she’d no longer be able to transform back and forth like this. But she’d made her choice, and she gladly lived with it.

Through rock and dirt and clay she rolled. Around and under and through a great maze of roots and aquifers, she sent herself digging. She knew the layout of Within as well as the minute details of her human skin, and she followed the striations in the earth like a road map. She searched for her home, hidden in the earth’s crust by the planet’s oldest magic. There. She found it, burrowing faster and faster to reach it. The feel of the earth around her was beginning to suffocate and press in.

She couldn’t wait to be free. She couldn’t wait to live in a house, with windows that allowed in the breeze, and windows that permitted light, and a door that let her come and go easily and of her own accord.

With a final push, she thrust herself through the walls of her abode. The rock and clay opened, ate her, then spit her into the small, open space beyond. Her body was made of quartz and minerals, sand and magic, and it landed unceremoniously in the center of her doorless cave.

Though she’d just been human, and the transformation into Daughter of Earth had sapped much of her energy, she reached for her human form again. Pushed away the parts of her that belonged solely to the earth. The golden brown skin she loved smoothed out the hard angles of rock. Proud white hair tickled her shoulders. She curled onto her side on the clay floor, her short legs pulled up to her chest.

As her evolving human lungs expanded, she gasped for air. Always this shock, the first time breathing Within. The constant trickle of oxygen was just enough to sustain human life, and also just enough to be torture. It was meant to remind the Children of their original forms. It was meant to remind them that humanity and the Children had once been one being.

All it did was reinforce Aya’s belief that she well and truly belonged Aboveground.

Normally it only took a short time for her to become accustomed to the dense, dark surroundings, but now she couldn’t seem to take a steady breath. She was coughing, choking. Then something scraped down her cheek and landed with a plink in the clay, then another and another, and she realized she was crying.

Her tears solidified as they escaped, turning into tiny, rough diamonds. So many. Until she was surrounded by their glitter and could take no human joy from them.

This must be what betrayal felt like.

It had been only months since she’d last seen Keko, since the two women had last propped their feet up on a rock by a wintry mountain stream and spoke haltingly of things that the Chimeran woman probably found mundane but that Aya thought of as fascinating. Cars and ice cream and games, and those soft things you pulled over your toes when they were cold. Keko always made Aya smile with her frank descriptions and honest opinions. Especially when it came to men.

The last time they met, shortly after Keko’s rescue in Colorado and right before her war against the Ofarians was called off, she’d finally spoken to Aya about Griffin. Even though Keko’s words had been harsh, the expression on her face had been wistful and soft, and it was crystal clear to Aya—even though she was still learning about human emotions—how the Chimeran woman truly felt about that Ofarian man.

Over the years, since their first chance meeting in the forest the night Griffin had maimed that Chimeran warrior, Aya had come to relish their sporadic, solitary talks. Keko must have, too, because she often sought out Aya after Senatus gatherings. Though Keko was not human, she’d managed to teach Aya much about humanity and Aboveground.

And now Aya had sentenced her first true friend to die.

Another great shudder wracked her body. For a moment she doubted her choice to evolve because humanity hurt far too much. Then she forced herself to think of Keko, who loathed self-pity, and pushed herself up to sit.

It was going to be all right, she told herself. Griffin was going after Keko. Griffin would find her and bring her back safely. Griffin would keep the Source intact.

And Griffin would win a seat among the Senatus, laying grounds for Aya’s supreme plan—a plan with which the Father would never agree.

She’d been sly, just now before the premier, to make him think she was on his side. Just like how sneaky she had to be to make the Father think she still agreed with him and the ways of the Children.

So much duplicity. If she were caught before her evolution into human was complete, she would face the ultimate punishment. Something worse than death.

Please, Griffin, she silently begged. Find Keko and bring her back. Appeal to her heart, because I know that deep down, hers belongs to you.

A crack splintered open the cave wall. Aya rolled unsteadily to her feet, kicking dirt and clay over the diamond tears to disguise them. A tiny glowing root pushed its way through the short crack, pulsing with an energy she knew intimately and had once loved more than her own life.

Daughter. The Father’s wordless voice emanated from the root. Come to me and report.

• • •

Brave Queen. Good Queen. Mighty Queen. Show me your secrets. Grant me redemption. Make me worthy. Help me earn back my name. Guide me to help our people. Above all, award me mana, your spiritual power.

Each word matched the beats of Keko’s heels as they struck the moist earth. Each syllable made a prayer. Each footstep moved her closer to her fate. Her faith guided her.

At the end of this road, even death would be a prize worth winning, because the people who had shunned her would know what she’d tried to do, how she’d attempted something as significant as becoming the Queen herself. If death came, Keko’s name would be spoken with breathless wonder and respect.

If she lived, she would lead. If she lived, she would hear words of admiration with her own ears and see awe with her own eyes, and she would know that she’d earned it.

Keko had been walking northwest through the coastal rainforests near Hilo, Hawaii for nearly two days. She slept through the cool, rainy nights curled up against trees, protected by the arch of massive leaves. She drank from streams and pools, and nibbled on the food she’d stolen from the stronghold before sneaking away under the cover of night. She avoided lights and Primary homes and civilization, sticking to the remote natural areas.

She wanted her actions to match the Queen’s as closely as possible. No Primaries. No modern conveniences or roads. No assistance. Only heart and determination. Only love for Chimeran magic, Chimeran ancestry. When Keko came into the Queen’s legacy, she would touch the Source clean. Absolved.

And then she would succeed where the Queen had not. She wouldn’t be Chimeran if that kind of stature didn’t make her fire flare with anticipation and longing.

Keko hunted for something very specific: a signpost left behind, a marker from the ancients. Over the course of her life, the Queen had carved thousands upon thousands of prayers into lava rock all over the Big Island. These prayers called out to the Source, asking for guidance. Almost all of these prayer carvings had gone unanswered, left to bake beneath the sun for future generations to question, but one had actually worked. It was that rock that Keko sought.

Travel was slowgoing, traversing the hilly landscape somewhat inland from the water, weaving in and out of tall, straight trees that bent in one direction under the constant force of the ocean wind. Keko took her time, analyzing the Queen’s legends, making sure she headed in the right direction. She didn’t fear pursuit.

Chief wouldn’t try to stop her because even if she succeeded and earned the Queen’s name, he would be healed. Bane, out of duty and because of Chimeran rules, would be forbidden to search for her. She wondered if Chief would tell Bane about the disease, then decided no. He would want to protect himself. Chief would let her brother think Keko weak and stupid and desperate.

She put the two Chimeran men out of her mind, because there simply was no point in thinking of them. No going backward, only forward.

But the problem with not thinking about her brother and uncle meant there was more space and time for Griffin to slink in. It happened in the most unlikely of places, following random, unrelated thoughts. Memories and images of Griffin, sliding into the blank minutes of her life.

Griffin, kitted out in soldier gear, stalking into that Colorado garage where she’d been held prisoner. His pale-faced shock when he realized she was the captive. The desire that still floated behind his frustration and anger.

The open set of his mouth as she pressed her hands hard into his shoulders, pinning him down. Riding him until they both came with their eyes wide open.

The way he’d slowly run his hands and eyes over her body that last night in the Utah hotel. Memorizing her lines and curves. So many parts of him had been lost to time and she wanted all those details back. She should have memorized him, too.

Suddenly she wished she hadn’t burned his jacket, for reasons that had nothing to do with the wet weather.

It was raining again, though it looked like it might pass over quickly. Keko turned her face to the sky and let the new droplets hit her cheeks and closed eyelids. Water, water, everywhere, each strike a little bit of Griffin.

She’d been right to call him. A paralyzing doubt had overtaken her the seconds before she’d dialed, but the moment she heard his voice she knew she’d done the right thing. Only now did she realize she hadn’t actually apologized for the whole war thing. Words like that didn’t come easy for her, but maybe Griffin understood.

Or maybe he didn’t, and she’d succeeded in making everything worse by not spewing out all the things she longed to say. Now she’d never get to, and it was that loss of a chance that hurt the most. He would never know how much she regretted blaming him for her capture, how ashamed she was of her subsequent actions.

She wondered if he would think her quest foolish. The stern Ofarian leader, the Senatus hopeful, might appreciate her desire to take back what had been lost, to lead her people in her own right. But the man who’d murmured to her in bed about new chances and dreams for his race, that man would sympathize with her need to find the Source, no matter the cost—even though she would never be able to tell him the reason why without compromising innocents. It created a heartrending polarity.

Keko realized her feet had stopped walking right in the middle of a macadamia nut tree farm. He was doing it again. Griffin was making her veer off her path, steering her mind in directions it didn’t need to go, and he wasn’t even here.

With a violent shake of her head, she gritted out “Stop it!” and exorcised Griffin for good. She’d said her good-byes, and that was that.