CHAPTER 36
NOX
“So, picture the Fabric as looking something like this.”
Zora’s taken off her outer tunic and folded it several times, lining up the decorative eyelets at the bottom of the hem so that one could easily slide a string through them to the other side. “The Fabric is the, well, the fabric, and the realms are the spaces between the folds. The folds are what keep the realms separate; however”—she traces the series of eyelets with her fingernail—“the designers of the Fabric, the Fates in this case, sometimes create eyelets, intentional holes, in the Fabric as a way of moving between realms. The thing is, if several eyelets are lined up, you can actually traverse several realms in one go.”
Zora runs her palms over the ground of the chasm until she finds a long twig. “This is you,” she says, holding it up in front of her face. “You started off in one realm, but then”—she slides the twig through the eyelets so that half remains on one side of the folded tunic, the other half on the other—“your consciousness got tied into the Fabric, allowing you to slip through an eyelet. So really, you’re two places at once. That’s why you can have a body on both sides.”
“Because my two bodies are just two sides of the same twig?”
She nods in confirmation. “Really, it’s a bit more complex than that, because you’re actually woven into the Fabric, but I’m simplifying it for your benefit.”
“Much appreciated.”
“Plus, it would be difficult for me to weave this piece of twig through my coat.”
“Understandable.”
“Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes. Now you might be wondering why, on this side of the Fabric, you and Farin walk around as separate entities, while on the other side, you’re stuck in one body.” She sticks her tongue out, concentrating as she carefully peels one end of the twig in two, stopping as the twig splits at the location of the eyelet. “So on one side, you’re still in one body, but on the other side, you’ve sort of bifurcated, presumably because of how the story is woven into the tapestry.”
I nod my head, impressed by my sister’s ability to explain complex interrealm travel with such a simple set of props.
“So I’m guessing what we want to do…may I?” I ask, gesturing toward the educational contraption.
She hands it over. “It’s all yours.”
“What we want to do is cross the eyelet”—I bend the frayed piece of bifurcated twig back, folding it over on itself and slipping it through the hole, leaving the other frayed piece dangling—“leaving Farin’s portion behind.”
“And then you get your vampire body back, for whatever reason you so desire that,” says Zora.
I set my jaw, less than eager to think about that reality at the moment. I won’t lie to myself, I’ve reveled in the sunlight the past day, refusing to take for granted any moment it warmed my skin.
There’s a part of me that aches to leave it behind.
But Blaise is all the sunlight I need.
I just have to hope I’m all she needs, too.
“And what’s keeping Farin from finding the eyelet and crossing over, too?” I ask.
Zora shrugs. “I’ve missed an eyelet before. Had someone beat me to it. It closes up and opens somewhere else. It was a pain to get to, honestly. Had to traverse two oceans and a mountain range to get to it. Put me behind schedule an entire year. Well,” she says, huffing a laugh, “back when I thought I had missions to complete, you know.”
An uncomfortable silence settles over the cave.
“I’m glad you’re coming with me,” I finally say.
Zora’s eyes water. She wipes them quickly on the hem of her sleeve. “Yeah, well, when your vampire brother offers you an invitation to return to a frozen wasteland where you’ve spent the past several years training to be a corpse, so that you can third wheel with him and his freakishly terrifying vampire girlfriend, how was I supposed to say no?”
Then she chuckles, grinning up at me with a flicker of mischief in her eyes. She nudges me in the shoulder, but I make use of the opportunity to wrap her in an embrace.
She fidgets uncomfortably, clearing her throat, but when she pulls away, she’s still smiling.
“So how exactly are we supposed to find this eyelet?” I ask as we douse our campfire and prepare to go trekking across the island.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll know where it is,” she says.
“Am I supposed to find that reassuring?”
She flashes me a mischievous grin. “I always find them. It’s like they tug at my heart. I’ll just follow the pull,” is all she says before she saunters out of the cave and into the brush of the island.
“So what’s the tug like?” I ask, catching up to her, our feet sinking in the soft sand of the beach. “I mean, are you born feeling it, or does it hit you one day?”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to know if I’m born feeling it, considering I can’t remember infanthood, but yes. I guess I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel it. Of course, when I’m a young child, I have no idea what I’m feeling. To my many parents’ chagrin, it usually manifests in a pull toward dangerous activities. I believe I’ve caused many a mother’s and father’s grief by launching myself off places most parents don’t prefer their children to jump from. But then, as I age, some of the memories start coming back. Well, I shouldn’t say start. When I’m a child, it feels the same as a wild imagination. But as I grow older, the memories separate themselves from my imagination. Like they’re too detailed and…intense…not to be real. I usually find my way to some religious sect that believes in reincarnation, because they’re the only ones who actually believe me. And well, the path diverges from there. But I always find my way to an eyelet. And I always step through.”
“And there’s always something else that happens,” I say, tentatively.
She makes a noncommittal noise.
“Your purpose?” I ask.
“Yes, the Event. But it’s different every time. I never know quite what it is until it’s upon me. Most of the time, I don’t even realize it until after it’s happened.” She turns toward me, punching me lightly in the shoulder. “It seems this time it’s finding you.”
Something flickers in her eyes when she says it, and I try to tell myself it’s just a shadow from a tree overhead.
It doesn’t take us long before we’re back at the edge of the canyon.
Zora paces much too near the edge for my liking, stroking her chin as she thinks.
