44

The gardens were just as beautiful as the house itself. They walked together down wide paths of chipped stone, amongst a maze of flowerbeds. The flowerbeds themselves were regimented squares of colour, reds and blues and yellows and purples and whites and oranges of all different shades, and little trees shaped into the silhouettes of horses, large cats, dogs, and curvaceous women, not one leaf out of place in any of the sculptures. There were larger trees too, some of the smallest bearing fruit such as apples that had fallen off the tree and rolled over the neatly clipped grass beneath, and the largest being a massive plum tree with huge roots. Willows grew here and there along the path, their long fronds hanging over the paths and providing shade; beneath their long branches sat stone benches with intricate scenes etched into the stone, depicting couples kissing, women praying and in one scene, what looked like a man flying towards the sun.

They walked without speaking along these paths, Clémence humming under her breath as Éponine drank in the sights around her. The garden was a riot for Éponine's eyes and she didn't know where to look. The stones beneath her feet crunched with every step and she swore she could hear running water.

Clémence turned down a path lined with tall hedges and Éponine followed. The path led them to a small wooden door set into the wall that ran around the edge of the garden. Clémence lifted the heavy iron latch on the door and pushed it inwards.

This part of the garden was as lush as the rest but in a different way – there was no explosion of colours here apart from rich greens and earthy browns. The grass was long and unkempt, although a very path had been carved out. The trees were all big and the roots were all over the place, some bubbling up beneath the well-trodden path that Clémence led her down. The little door shut behind them with a soft thud, and Éponine spared it a small glance.

Clémence lifted her dress so she could walk without it dragging on the grass and dirt, but she still kept the same brisk pace and didn't speak a word.

Eventually the grass grew shorter and shorter until it was nothing more than spongy moss growing thickly over bumpy earth, and they were walking along the edge of a stream. The silvery water bubbled over rocks, the sound soothing and pleasant to Éponine's ears. She realised as she listened to it that the river she was used to never ran and was always still and silent. This stream, however, was the liveliest thing she'd seen since arriving here.

"Do you like my home?" Clementine asked suddenly.

"It's beautiful," Éponine said honestly. "I've only ever seen apartments here."

"The dead can be so unimaginative," Clementine sighed. "I haven't been here in a very long time," she added, her pale eyes sweeping the trees above their heads. "As beautiful as I find it, it pains me to be here…So many good memories…"

They fell silent once more. The stream widened considerably, and there was a small waterfall, and above it a large pool of water with yet another waterfall crashing into it. The path was rising upwards now into a hill, and the stream continued with it. Clémence, however, stopped at the side of the pool. Next to the pool was a small wooden bench, roughly carved, and etched into the back was a set of initials – a 'C' and an 'B'.

Clémence sat down on the bench and clasped her hands in her lap. Éponine hesitated before sitting beside her. She stared at the pool. It was surrounded by rocks and boulders, grass and some tiny flowers sprouting from in between them. The water in the pool managed to look still as well as rushing over the edge of the cliff.

"As I said to you, I can only speculate about what your powers are for," Clémence said. "There are times when I think that your powers can bring comfort to the dead…You can allow people to find peace, such as in the incident with Fantine, or give them comfort by allowing them to see a loved one is happy. That is the good side of your gift – the side I like."

"And the bad side?" Éponine said. "Éléonore said that people – people can get addicted to Portals…"

"Yes, that happens," Clémence said. "I have seen people waste away – as much as a person can here – before a Portal; I have seen them become entranced with the world of the living instead of taking their chance to make themselves happy…I have seen people waste fifty years in front of Portals when they could have moved on within two days of dying if they had just looked at what was right in front of them."

"Moved on?" Éponine said, curiously.

"I'll get to that in a moment," Clémence said, waving a hand. "I have also seen people destroyed by their ability to go to the world of the living, for the same reasons – some kind of addiction, usually. And sometimes, the people with the ability have no desire to use it but are harassed and bullied and coerced into taking others there…It is regulated now, and people with your ability can seek protection. It is amazing how many find they need protecting." She looked at Éponine. "Of all your abilities, the power to help people to other areas in the lands of the dead is by far the kindest – there aren't many people who become addicted to leaving their homes, let me tell you."

There was a pause, and then Clémence said, "What Fantine did the other night was risky – and it was not kind. I knew Fantine. She was a good woman – one of the best – and she had one of the kindest hearts I have ever come across. But what she did was foolish and dangerous for you, and it was not a risk she should have taken without explaining to you the whole problem. You see, travelling to the world of the living is not without its consequences."

Éponine brushed hair out of her face and nodded. "Such as?"

"When people die, they stay here until they move on," Clémence said. "I do not know where they move on to, but they leave. Everyone does it eventually – a puff of smoke, and they have left us behind." There was a note of bitterness in her voice. "It is tricky to say why people move on, but they do not have a choice in the matter. Usually it is an event, or a realisation they have come to, and they achieve happiness and then they leave. It is the best you can hope for."

Éponine thought of Fantine's desperation to stay and doubted that.

"But travelling to the living world can affect someone's ability to move on," Clémence said. "Everyone has a certain amount of times they can travel before they become trapped here – and will remain trapped here. I travelled to the living world three times, stupidly, and now I am trapped. I knew it would happen, and I did it anyway, because I was too young to know what it meant, to stay here, for thousands of years on end…" Clémence shook her head, as if she realised she did not want to say what she had just said out loud. "Fantine has taken away one of your visits to the world of the living."

"And how many do I have left?" Éponine said, curiously.

"Four," Clémence said, calmly. "Your friend Combeferre has seven, and Éléonore has twelve – but neither of them will ever venture to the world of the living."

Éponine thought about this. She cleared her throat. "I have a friend," she said, slowly.

"Yes," Clémence said. "You do. And he told you that you would never leave. That you would stay here."

"Was he right?" Éponine knew that Clémence knew the answer.

"Yes," Clémence said, after a heartbeat passed. "You will travel to the world of the living four more times."

Éponine closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Clémence said, and Éponine felt the lightest of touches at her elbow. "It is not something I would wish on anybody, and I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news. But if it is any consolation, you will not be alone."

Éponine recalled Clémence's earlier words and muttered, "Men of the sun, by any chance?"

Clémence didn't respond to that question, but instead said, "I would like to meet your friend."

"Enjolras?" Éponine said.

"Yes," Clémence said. "I saw him in you, when I looked. He is another of the states. There is a dead state that can see people's futures, and Enjolras is one of them." Clémence turned to look at her. "You should come back here tomorrow, and bring Enjolras with you."

Once more, Éponine felt like this was a command she had no choice but to comply with. So she nodded. "I will go from here and speak to him," she assured Clémence.

"Good."

A few more moments passed. Éponine watched the flowing water in front of her and breathed in the scent of earth and flowers. She closed her eyes. She managed to feel calm here, whilst her mind was trying its best to run riot with all of the information she had just learned.

She was never moving on, whatever that actually entailed, and she was going to journey back to the lands of the living four more times and trap herself here, and Enjolras knew that, knew she was never going to leave…But he had never mentioned it. She didn't blame him – they barely knew each other, not really, and it wasn't exactly something you dropped into conversation and yet…She just wished she could have heard that news from a friendlier mouth than Clémence's.

"Éléonore and Combeferre will be wondering where we are," Clémence spoke, getting to her feet. "Come, let's return to the house."

Éponine watched Clémence walk past and pad carefully down the grassy path along the stream's edge. It was a few heartbeats before she also stood and followed her, drinking in the bubbling pool before her one last time before turning away.