So this is just a random idea I've had knocking around my noggin since I reread this trilogy again. This takes place after Inkspell and is assuming the events regarding Dustfinger's demise never happened in Inkdeath. It may not be any good, but I'd like to know what you think. So you see that little blue button with 'Review' on it? Click it and let me know. Enjoy!
It's all your fault.
Brianna's words echoed through Farid's mind once more, just like they had for weeks now. He saw her all the time, as Orpheus' maid ever since her father died.
For Farid.
It's all your fault.
Farid longed for the mantra of guilt to stop for the briefest of moments. All he wanted was for one moment where he wouldn't see his master's crumpled body, his angry daughter yelling at him when she ran into him coming from the little spot in the forest where he went sometimes to a little grave he'd made for his friend. Brianna always got so angry when she saw him, saw his sorrow. Like he didn't deserve to feel sorrow. Like Dustfinger hadn't been every bit as much his father as hers.
But Brianna didn't see it that way. All she saw was the boy who was the reason her father was dead. Just when she had gotten him back, Brianna had lost Dustfinger again.
Dustfinger… Not a moment passed when Farid didn't see his master's scarred face, making the fire dance, smiling wryly, frowning often, crumpling to the ground.
Never getting up.
Farid wanted nothing more than for Dustfinger to be alive again. He'd never asked to be saved. He didn't want to be saved if it meant Dustfinger would die. Farid would never have asked that of him, and yet the gift of life had been given back to him in an exchange.
This was the last time though. The last time that Farid would be afraid, would hear the words echoing in his mind. Tonight, he was going to turn back the clock. He was going to change what had happened.
Farid took a deep breath as he stood by the trees. He had been looking around, asking stories, trying to find out how he could summon the White Women. He finally had found out how. He wasn't trying to save Dustfinger, though he'd love to do just that. But no. Farid was not naïve enough to believe that Dustfinger would bear with the exchange any better than he himself had. Instead, the only option that was available was to join him in whatever came next.
Farid watched the blue fairies flying around, the same ones Dustfinger had loved so dearly, and had come to grow on even the boy himself. He thought of Meggie. He was going to miss Meggie, and the feeling of the dirt under his feet, and the feel of living life. But he could never miss any of that, not even Meggie, as much as he missed Dustfinger now.
Farid summoned fire, taking his knife and cutting a thin slice on his palm. The blood welled up and sizzled on the flames. Somewhere, one of the Night Mares growled, sending fear through Farid. The blood on the makeshift grave of the strolling player drew a rustling sound as Farid began to play with fire one last time. He made the flames dance one last time, and if Dustfinger were still alive, there would be pride written on his scarred face. Instead, as Farid finished, there was nothing, nothing but the faces of two White Women, floating on the edges of his vision. When Farid shut his eyes, he took one last breath, but when he opened them, the figures were fading.
"Wait!" Farid cried. "Wait. Take me with you," he said. The White Women turned. "A little while ago, a friend of mine, a Fire Dancer, Dustfinger, traded himself for me. But I can't stay here forever. It's too much. Take me to him, and I will make fire dance with him. Two of us are better than one."
The White Women stared at him strangely.
"Why do you ask to come? Why do you squander his gift?" They asked. Farid paused at their wording.
"Because…" he said, hesitant to answer. "This isn't life. He gave me back life, but he was the reason I came here. The cost for the gift was the reason I wanted life in the first place. I don't want to keep going. I'll join you one way or another. Why can I not do it peacefully, willingly?" he asked quietly. The White Women looked at each other and smiled an eerie smile. "Very well, Fire Dancer. You can join your friend. Are you ready?" They questioned.
Farid was shivering, the fear finally setting in at the realization that he was going to go willingly to the ghosts he once feared so desperately. But since that time, he had learned that there was so much more to fear. He knew that now. Farid thought of Brianna's words again.
It's all your fault.
Not anymore, Farid thought. I can't be blamed anymore. He closed his eyes again and nodded, picturing Meggie in his mind, her blue eyes like pieces of the sky, and Dustfinger with his scarred face.
"Yes," he answered. He kept thinking of Meggie as he felt the cold hands reach into him and pull. He could feel his soul separating, and he held tight to his memories one last time.
Then the darkness set in once and for all and he crumpled to the ground.
Somewhere in the land of Death, a man with a scarred face dances with fire. He is joined by a boy who almost looks familiar. But he can't remember the boy. He is from another life, a life gone to him. The man is not sure whether to laugh or cry at the boy's arrival though. So instead, he merely smiles a wry smile as the boy joins and they make the fire dance together again.
Master and apprentice.
Father and son.
United again.
Forever.
Like I said, really random and probably a little crummy. But hey, I guess it isn't terrible for my first Inkheart fanfic. Please, Read and Review!