He was the phoenix, he was Arthur, blinking, blinking as a white light came from Zoe’s chest, forming a small ball in front of her, perhaps two inches in diameter. From Lucy, a devilish red light. From Phee, yellow, like the leaves of a quaking aspen. From Talia, a rough pink, the same shade as her prized begonias. David’s was near white, like snow, like ice; Chauncey’s as blue as the ocean. Sal and Theodore’s wyvern-fire green carrying on it corporeal words in spiky, familiar handwriting that said words like BRITTLE and THIN and SEE ME and I AM FOUND.
And the light that came from Linus was white and red and yellow and pink and blue and green and reddish-orange. He was theirs, they were his, and Arthur thought of the little yellow flower on the steps of the house when he’d first come back, the yellow of Linus’s sunflowers, his only piece of color in a monochrome world.
Finally, from Arthur, the orange-red of fire and feather.
The lights from each of them coalesced into a glittering sphere in front of Zoe, the colors mingling, dancing. The sphere broke apart and reformed into the same nautilus shell design that the queen had carved into the street. As it shimmered in front of her, lines of color flashing, Zoe leaned forward and kissed its center.
The shell and the phoenix shot across the ocean toward the island. They reached the halfway point, the phoenix’s wings wide as it caught an updraft, rising high into the sky. Below it, the nautilus shell hung suspended, turning until it was parallel with the ocean. The phoenix reached its apex high above the sea, then it fell backward, tucking its wings into its sides as it plummeted toward the shell.
“Hold on!” Zoe cried as the dock started to shake, waves growing larger, water spraying onto their legs, their arms, their faces.
The phoenix struck the shell as Arthur gritted his teeth, the pull enormous, stronger than anything he’d felt before. Time slowed down as the shell shattered, the pieces covering the phoenix across its beak and face and chest and wings.
The bird hit the water, and then Arthur divided in two, split cleanly down the middle. This was the farthest he’d ever been from the phoenix, a division he hadn’t even been sure was possible. Every muscle in his body tensed. He was floating above the dock, and he was diving to the darkened depths below, water sizzling around him. Discordant, dizzying, the phoenix pushed itself farther and farther. Ahead, the seabed, wavy lines of seagrass swaying back and forth.
The moment the phoenix’s beak touched the bottom of the sea, great cracks appeared in the ocean floor, filling with the same white light as Zoe’s eyes. Before it was lost to thousands upon thousands of fizzy bubbles, Arthur swore he saw what appeared to be a massive stone statue bursting through the seabed.
On the dock, Arthur opened his salt-stung eyes.
Land rose from the sea with an earth-shattering rumble. The half-moon bay around them filled with rock and sand and grass and trees and thousands upon thousands of flowers. Boats shifted and groaned as the ocean lifted them up and up—including the ferry—long waterways forming underneath that led into open waters. The boats settled back down, the ferry tipping precariously but managing to stay upright.
In front of them, rocky cliffs formed on either side of a white road inlaid with black shells, creating a cobblestone appearance. Great stone statues—at least twenty feet tall—lined the road, sprites in various poses, holding flowers and saplings and birds and lengthy scrolls.
The road continued forming, stone and bedrock snapping into place. It raced toward the island, and around their home, the ocean swirled angrily, whitecapped waves crashing onto the shores. For a moment, Arthur thought the island rose from the sea, but it was an illusion; the island wasn’t rising.
It was growing.
As they looked on, Marsyas grew and grew, and when all was said and done, when the last of the light faded, as the sun dipped below the horizon and they lowered slowly back down to the docks, the island they knew was no longer.
It its place, something both familiar and wondrous. The shape of it was mostly the same as far as Arthur could tell, but it had grown to at least five times its original size. Trees that had never grown on the island before swayed in the breeze, large, as if they’d been growing for decades. Between them, through their canopy, small dwellings, what looked like houses, places that hadn’t existed when they’d left the island only hours before.
“Home,” Zoe said quietly, a single seagull calling overhead. “How it once was. How it will be from now on.” She glanced at them over her shoulder, her eyes having returned to normal. A tear trickled down her cheek as she smiled.
“It’s for us?” Phee asked in wonder, taking her hand.
“Yes,” Zoe said. “For all of us. A gift from the sea.”
“Frank!” Chauncey cried in delight as his friend flipped out of the water. He rushed toward the edge of the dock, looking off the side near the ferry. “Wasn’t that bananas? I flew and did magic! Everything all right down there? What’s that? Wow, really?” Chauncey’s eyes turned toward them. “Frank says that as far as he can tell, no sea life was harmed. The starfish aren’t happy, but they’re called the divas of the ocean for a reason.”
Arthur took Linus’s hand in his. “Children, shall we see what we’ve made?”
Lucy looked up at them. “But not just us, right?”
“What do you mean?” Linus asked him.
Lucy pointed back toward the village. They all turned and saw their audience was still there and had, in fact, grown even larger. Hundreds of people stood watching them with no small amount of awe. Helen stood in the front, wiping her eyes as she laid her head on J-Bone’s shoulder. “You said it was for all of us,” Lucy explained. “That means them too.”
“That it does,” Zoe said. She raised her voice. “People of Marsyas! Would you like to see your new kingdom?”
The people cheered and with the children leading them, they found their way home.
EPILOGUE
On a crisp autumn morning, Arthur Parnassus took a stroll. He had no particular destination in mind, knowing he’d do well to avoid the south end of the peninsula due to threat of death. Granted, said threat had come from a rather feisty gnome, and while it wasn’t the first time (and undoubtedly wouldn’t be the last), Arthur decided not to test her, especially today of all days. She had been looking forward to this for a long time.
Besides, he had other things to occupy his attention this morning, and it kept him from becoming completely frazzled.
It’d taken time for him to become familiar with Marsyas as it was now. It could be argued that only Zoe and the children knew their home better, but even they continued to make new discoveries about it.
The former island—now a peninsula—was still covered in trees, the forest thick. In addition to the main houses and Zoe’s home, Marsyas was now dotted with dwellings made of stone and crushed shells, all in warm pastel colors, not unlike the village. Some lay in groves of trees heavy with fruit. Others were built into the trees, rope ladders dangling down, wooden bridges connecting the homes above the forest floor. Still others had formed beneath the earth into hillsides, the interiors damp and cool.
And the pathways! Where there had once been worn footpaths, stone walkways now covered Marsyas from end to end, crisscrossing the length and width of the former island. The paths were lined with flora and fauna, ancient statues of sprites covered in moss, leafy vines hanging from stone fingers.
The main road wrapped around the exterior of the peninsula, allowing vehicles to cross, bringing visitors who came to see the new Marsyas. They were the perfect guests: they stayed briefly, spent their money, and then went back home.
Arthur smiled as two children ran by him, their laughter loud and free. As he looked back, one of the children—a girl—disappeared. Her friend—a gap-toothed boy with purple eyes and black, scaly skin—shouted, “No fair! You can’t turn invisible. That’s cheating!” He turned toward Arthur. “Mr. Parnassus, tell Alice she can’t cheat.”
A harried-looking woman appeared on the path. When she saw Arthur standing there, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Billy,” she said as the boy groaned. “You know the rules. If Alice wants to use her magic, she can. And Mr. Parnassus has bigger things to focus on today.”
Alice reappeared. “Sorry, Billy,” she said. “Hi, Mr. Parnassus!”
“Alice,” he said, tilting his head. “Billy. You look as if the pair of you have been exploring. Find anything interesting?”
Billy brightened, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Sal told me there’s treasure hidden somewhere on the island. Alice and me are going to find it.”
“Ah,” Arthur said. “But what if the real treasure is the friendships you make along the way?”
Billy blew a raspberry. “No, yuck. We’re gonna find jewels and coins and—”
