Hal was sinking, drowning. Slowly, but surely. She could see the glimmering light up ahead, the sun or moon reflective in the surface of the water. She didn't reach for it. Didn't care to. She just watched it, drifting further from it as the weight in her body naturally carried her further down. It steadily became darker around her, quieter.
Colder.
It felt so cold. Compressing in around her, suffocating. Unbearable. She had never felt anything like it before
No.
That wasn't true.
She had felt this coldness. Once. Before.
Twelve years ago.
Yes. She remembered. Sinking, drowning. Slowly, but surely. Just as she did now. And just as they had then, her limbs became locked from the cold. No longer able to move. No longer able to fight.
She just sunk.
The light above got farther and farther from view. She watched it with a sense of odd detachment. She knew there was something good in the light. Something important. Yet she felt no inclination to swim towards it. What was the point? She was already so far gone — she wouldn't make it anyway. She'd probably only grow tired and cramp up from trying to cover such a vast distance, and feel even worse when she began to sink again.
So, she stared at the light, dazzling and luminescent even from the shadows where she drifted. So pretty.
She wished she could touch it. Just one more time.
…
She could still see the light above her. She could've sworn it was calling to her. She wondered if she was being silly. Of course it wasn't calling to her. Something so beautiful couldn't possibly be for her.
She had fallen for that once before.
She wasn't going to fall for it again.
…
It was hard to tell underwater, but Hal was pretty sure she had begun to cry.
She didn't want to think about why she was so sad. She just wanted the pain to stop. She didn't want to feel like this anymore. Yet the light kept calling her name. And in a moment of weakness, in a desperate attempt to think it would rid this pain from her body, she reached for it.
She felt something grip her throat. A hand. Or a rope. She felt it snake across her forehead and across her stomach and chest. It wrapped itself around her wrists and ankles, slithered and tightened around her thighs and arms.
She reached for the light.
But the darkness held on tight, and pulled her even further down.
…
Someone else was here.
She couldn't see them, but she could feel them. But that didn't mean much. She couldn't see anything now. The light was gone. All light was gone. All she felt was cold and all she saw was dark.
But someone was there.
She wanted to call out, ask who was there. But she decided she didn't care. Perhaps they meant to end her drowning. Was it even still drowning anymore? She didn't know.
But this presence began to feel rather intrusive. Insistent.
Go away, she wanted to tell them.
Leave me alone.
I'm afraid I can't do that.
Hal blinked. That voice. She felt as though she knew that voice. But the name and face escaped her. But…why did it feel so familiar? What was it doing here, of all places? Was it, like her, drifting aimlessly too?
Are you here to kill me? Hal asked. She did not think she wanted to die. But she would very much like to stop sinking. She would very much like to stop hurting.
No. If you die, I would die as well.
Hal blinked in confusion. But how could that be? Was this her consciousness?
What are you doing? The voice asked, echoing in her mind, soft and kind. They spoke as if they had all the time in the world.
I'm not quite sure, Hal admitted. I'm not sure of anything anymore.
Do you know who you are?
Hal frowned. I am Halen. Just Halen now. She did not think she could be Zarasdaughter if there was no Zara. But she didn't want to get into that with the voice just now.
Are you sure?
Yes. I am Halen.
Well, then you're sure of something. And that's better than nothing. Although if you are sure you aren't sure about nothing, then I suppose you are still sure.
Huh? Actually, she didn't care to discern this nonsense. Hal was already tired of this conversation. Go away.
I cannot.
And why is that?
Because I am trapped here too. Wherever you go, I now too must go. They paused. Where are you from?
It doesn't matter.
Are you lost?
Go away.
I told you. I can't.
Something tugged at the back of her mind. The familiarity of that voice, once more. But something else now. Why? Was something wrong?
Where are you going? The voice asked.
Nowhere. I have nowhere to go. So, to nowhere I belong.
I would much rather prefer it if you stayed with me. I admit I'd be rather worried if I let you go off on your own.
I don't want your company. Go away.
Perhaps then, we both can go to Nowhere. Together. How does that sound?
I don't want to go with you. I want to go alone. Leave me alone.
Hal didn't want to think anymore. Didn't want to hear anymore. But she could not cover her ears. Why?
Why did this feel so familiar?
You sound like you're in pain. The voice again. Tell me, are you in pain?
Why does it matter if I'm in pain? If you cannot see my pain, does that mean it does not exist?
I'm afraid that I must admit, now that you mention it…I cannot see much of anything at all.
Because it is dark?
For me, it is always dark. But you sound like you're in pain. Are you in pain?
Hal hesitated. Yes. I am.
I would like to help you, if you'll let me.
You just said you can't see because it's dark.
I have other ways of looking. I have a village, close by. We have a wonderful medicine man, a close friend of mine. He can very much see. I would like to take you to him, Halen from It Doesn't Matter.
No. I don't want to. Go away.
I told you. I can't.
Hal sank further into shadow and darkness. No more. She didn't want to hear anymore.
I'll make you a promise. Come with me, Halen. Let my medicine man treat you. Let us put food on your stomach. Rest awhile. And when you're strong enough to travel, you may continue on your way to Nowhere. How does that sound?
Do you expect me to trust you?
No. But I hope you will have faith.
No, make it stop.
How about this?
No, please.
If it makes you feel any better, I will tell you my name.
Stop.
How will that make me feel better?
Because you will know my name, and I will know yours. So, if I lie to you, you can curse me to the heavens, and they will find me, because they know my name. But I do not wish to be cursed by the gods, so I will not lie to you. Nor will I harm you. You will be safe with me.
Safe? That sounded nice. Food sounded even better. Her voice felt small as she asked, You promise?
No, stop!
I promise.
All right then, tell me your name.
NO!
My name is Denu Davidsson, Halen from It Doesn't Matter. And I am so delighted to meet you.
…
When Hal woke up, she felt a strange sort of disconnect from her body. She stared up at a dirt ceiling that didn't belong to her room. She knew those patterns and cracks like the back of her hand now. And she stared at this unfamiliar wall, her gaze distant yet concentrated. Like she could bring the roof crashing in on her if she tried.
If you die, I would die as well.
No — that didn't matter anymore. That only mattered so long as he was alive. And he wasn't. So, what was the point? All those years, fighting the urge to stop fighting, and it was all for nothing. She had done it all for him. Did he know that? He became her sole reason for existing. He made her smile. Made her happy. He was her light, her joy, her sun, her beating heart. He became the reason she got up in the morning. She wanted to make him smile. Make him happy. Make him laugh. Because she knew that she was his light, his joy, his sun, his beating heart.
But his heart had stopped beating.
And Hal did not know what to do with the broken remains of hers.
I'm not quite sure of anything anymore.
…If you are sure you aren't sure about nothing, then I suppose you are still sure.
That didn't count. It was cheating. A loophole.
Do you know who you are?
Not anymore, she didn't. Everything she was, she was because of him. So, if he was no more, than so was she.
If you die, I would die as well.
She was drifting aimlessly, just like in her dream. Sinking, slowly, surely. Time felt infinite yet it seemed to stop altogether. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking, a final desperate attempt to cling to a past that no longer existed, in fear of a future that she did not want to exist at all.
Not without him. Not without Denu.
Denu.
Hal's vision blurred with tears.
Denu.
She felt her body begin to shake, releasing pent up energy and emotion that had been sitting there for days, waiting for Hal to finally come acknowledge her loss.
Denu.
She began to wail, the pain of her grief finally collapsing on top of her as if she really had brought the ceiling down. She wanted to hurt. She wanted to feel all the pain in the world she could possibly be made to feel. She slammed her fists repeatedly into the wall, kicking and screaming and trying to take the pain out of her chest and into anywhere else. She would rebreak her hand if she had to. What did she care? That would be nothing compared to her heart being ripped out of her chest and stomped on.
Repeatedly stomped on, again.
And again.
And again, until it was crushed and stopped beating altogether.
She felt hands grab her arms and practically yank her out of the bed, away from the wall. Away from her physical hurt. She screamed and kicked, crying and sobbing, hating. She didn't want to feel. She didn't want to feel anything anymore.
But why? Why did her heart still bleed and beat and pump and weep? Why did she?
If you cannot see my pain, does that mean it does not exist?
But she knew the answer to that.
Halen.
She paused, surprised to hear her name echo inside her head in a voice that did not belong to her or her subconscious.
Please. Come back to me.
She grew stiff, tense. No. There was nothing to go back to.
Right?
Leave me alone.
To me, Halen.
Her limbs grew limp. Don't fall for it, she told herself. It's another trap. There's nothing more for you here? Let go. Just let it all go. Go away.
Fight, Halen. Please.
For what?
Fight.
Why?
Because I need you.
No. No one needs me. Go away.
No. I told you, where you go, I go. I need you still. We all do.
We?
Yes.
…
…
I couldn't save him. And the words were a never-ending shame that she knew would always haunt her. A truth that cemented her weakness and her failure.
…Nor could I.
I couldn't save him, Hal repeated, her mind becoming clearer, more focused as she remembered. I couldn't save him.
I know, iet dunei. I know.
…But I saved you.
Yes. Yes, you did.
I couldn't save him. But I saved you.
Yes.
Yes. She remembered now. The weight of the magic pressing down on her like stone. Crushing. Her body was giving out on her. She had exhausted too much of her energy trying to reach him. Trying to save Denu. Because she could not bear to see him in such agony.
Her attack was weakening.
But so were Thea's shields.
Hal knew she would have a split second to get in and save Denu. She had been so sure of it; she would just have to wait for the perfect moment. The moment the shields shattered, but just before Hal's magic rebounded as a result. That would be the time to strike.
And then Denu's eyes had flickered over her shoulder, as if he had known. She had shielded Murtagh from Thea before she had spotted him as he was about to come around the corner. Her attention had been so focused on Hal, and vice versa, that she had not realized that someone else was there.
Someone's whose death would be even more catastrophic for Hal.
And she had almost, in a single instant, forgotten. She had hidden Murtagh from Thea to keep him safe. Hal knew he would follow, had recognized his steps as he approached, but to see Thea when she had made the issue quite clear. Hal had reacted without thinking, distracting Thea while she hid Murtagh to keep him safe.
STOP! And with a single word, had made sure Murtagh had done just that.
And then she had nearly gotten him killed.
Had Denu not glanced at the rider — like he knew that wherever Hal was, Murtagh could not be far behind — there could have been multiple casualties.
And she knew then she could not save him.
But she would save Murtagh.
Hal somehow knew the attack wouldn't kill her outright, just like she knew it wouldn't kill Thea. And she managed to maintain the brunt of it within the vicinity. She hoped no one else had been nearby. But she dropped her attack and shielded Murtagh just as the world around them exploded.
Just as Denu had smiled. Just as Hal had let him go.
If I die, you live.
And he had died.
So that Murtagh may live.
So that at some point, Hal would remember to live again.
…
Murtagh had never been to a funeral. But if he had, it would have paled in comparison to Denu's.
The sky was dark, littered with stars although the moon was hidden behind clouds. It was still a beautiful night.
Denu's body had been carefully prepared, dressed in his finest robes, the colorful set, that his betrothed, Isa, had made for him for their wedding. Picking through the remains of their hut, Hal had quietly pulled it from the rubble and passed it to Tena, the message quite clear.
Now he lay on a bed of straw and wood, constructed by several of the villagers in a manner that resembled most of the funeral pyres. But as the village leader, Denu's was more ornate, patterns and animals carefully carved into the side.
Hal sat near the body, unblinking and emotionless, Denu's staff set across her lap. She held it tightly, the tips of her fingers white from the pressure. Otherwise, she said nothing. She hardly moved. The last several days had been painful. She had sat with the body in her lap for hours before Murtagh had finally had enough of the painful scene, and forced himself to get close enough to coax it from her. She had resisted. She didn't even seem present anymore. Then she had sat there until he returned, and he lifted her still form in his arms. Tena helped bathe her, then set her down in the cot in Sam's hut that Murtagh had woken up in.
Hal had not stirred for two whole days. She had not shown any signs of life except for the shallow breaths she took. And it was in the midst of her sudden fit, out of sheer desperation, that Murtagh finally touched her mind so that he may reach her once more.
She had slept after that.
And she had begun to move when she awoke. Slowly, but on her own. She didn't speak. Didn't really acknowledge anyone. But she was moving. And that was enough for now.
And Murtagh had been so relieved, that he had wept.
Now she sat there as people came, one-by-one, bowing their heads in acknowledgement of Denu's passing. To Murtagh's surprise, the first person in line had bowed to Hal, then turned to Murtagh and Thorn, and bowed to them. And every single person followed without question or hesitation. Murtagh's eyes filled with tears at the acknowledgement as members of Denu's family.
He was not surprised when Berjis stepped forward, his expression pained as he bowed to Hal, then to Murtagh and Thorn. Other members of his village had chosen to attend as well when news had reached them. Bea stood there, looking at Hal as if waiting for the woman to break into a smile and ask if she wanted to play. When Hal didn't even acknowledge that she had seen her, Bea broke away from her father's grasp and climbed into Hal's lap without preamble.
Berjis made a beeline for his child, trying to keep Aiden situated on his hip, when Murtagh threw out his arm and stopped him. Berjis looked at him, then back at Hal. Bea didn't say anything, just tucked herself into Hal's chest. And Hal quietly wrapped her arms around the little girl, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
When everyone finished paying their respects, Amon, Cado, and Ayo stepped forward. They were each going to hold one side of pyre, and Murtagh stepped forward to hold the other. Amon had quietly told him that he could walk up front with Hal, but Murtagh had insisted on being one of the men to carry the body. To hold up the man who had taken him into his home, and made it Murtagh's home as well.
And as they walked into the forest, Murtagh began to cry.
Hal continued to carry Bea as the group walked to the beach. The entire village was not expected to attend, as the trek could be weary for little ones and the elderly. But those who were able, walked behind the village elders, who walked behind Denu's body, who all walked behind Hal.
She was a lone figure in the dark, holding a small torch in her hand to light the way. She had slipped Denu's walking stick between her body and Bea's to keep it situated. Her back was stiff, and Bea laid her head on Hal's shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep as they walked.
It felt as though the entire village had gathered as they reached the shores of Illium. The pyre was placed near the water, the expansive ocean and sky its backdrop. Everyone gathered around, standing far enough away that when the flames would catch, it would not singe them.
Berjis took Bea's sleeping form out of Hal's arms. Then Hal, after setting Denu's walking stick in his hand and curling it into his chest, turned and faced the crowd. She was crying quietly, but there was a love in her eyes as she gazed upon the people of her village. Her eyes landed on Murtagh. He didn't know what to think or feel or do in that moment, the wind flirting about the skirt of her white dress robes.
She held out her hand.
He walked forward, taking it, and she looked past him, nodding at Thorn to also step forward. She looked at them both, and in her eyes, Murtagh could see love. Even in her grief, the love was still there.
Her hand was shaking as she turned towards Denu. She stepped closer, leaning down and kissing his forehead tenderly. She lingered for several moments before standing straight, her eyes filling with tears at the reality. The burning of the body. The final goodbye. Murtagh could feel her hesitation, her fear, as she struggled to maintain her composure.
He readjusted their fingers so that he could stand behind her. Then he placed his hand over hers, gently touching her mind.
Together?
She didn't respond at first, her sobs racking her body. But she slowly nodded her head, her cries growing louder, moving the rest of the crowd to tears of their own. Hal's grief was heavy. And at first, her hand still resisted. But he was patient and, slowly but surely, she lowered the flames to the pyre. And he could've sworn he heard her whisper, "I'm sorry," just before the fire touched the straw.