Heather was the first to die. Her breath had become ragged and then had stopped. Kam ran his finger tips down her face to close her eyes. He carried her into the kitchen and laid her onto the table. Her son would not see her soaked with vomit and sweat. It was the only thing that he had to give her. He peeled off the soiled clothing and he washed her body and hair. 

From upstairs, he retrieved clothing that was similar to what she had been wearing and he dressed her. But he refused to hide her beauty. He braided her hair and draped it over her shoulder so that it’s glimmering bronze could catch the morning light. He gently touched her cheeks with red blossoms from the field, giving her tan skin a light blush. Bringing her hands up across her stomach he folded them together as if in a quiet prayer. She looked peaceful. But that was a lie. He hoped it was a kind lie. A lie that was kinder then her death had been.

Dipak had not outlived her by long. While Kam tended to Heather’s body, Gytha had sat next to Dipak’s and had continued to stroke his forehead and hair. She had no tears to shed.

When Kam returned to the living room he put his hand on Gytha’s shoulder. She shrugged him away.

“Gytha,” he said.

She glared up at him.

“He’s gone.”

She said nothing. One hand continued to hold the pale, limp fingers while her other she pushed the hair away from his face even though it was already smoothed back.

The sun was bringing a weak, gold light into the room and Ama was beginning to plump up again. She would wake to a strange new day. The Life Spark had been extinguished.

“We must bring him home,” Kam said.

Gytha nodded. Now she allowed Kam to guide her away from Dipak’s body. Kam started to gather Dipak up into his arms.

“No,” Gytha said.

She gently pushed him away.

“Tell me what to do,” she whispered.

There was enough room on the large table for them to lay Dipak’s slender form next to Heather. Under Kam’s guidance Gytha washed Dipak. But she refused to dress him in the bloody jacket and stained pants.

“We have nothing else to put him in and we can’t bring him back naked,” Kam said softly.

“Angerona,” Gytha said.

The spider had long ago dropped from Gytha’s back and had been unnoticed by Kam. Now the spider brought forward a white silk suit that Gytha dressed Dipak in. It was simple, almost as plain as the attire that Heather wore, but it suited him. Kam nodded.

They pulled up two chairs, one on either side and waited with the dead.

Jacob was the first to come to the kitchen.

“Mother?” he whispered.

He stood at the door, holding onto the frame. Kam stood and went to him. He took the boy’s hand and silently led him to the table. What could he say? There was no good way to explain what had happened during the night.

Jacob said nothing as he reached out a trembling hand. Large tears rolled from his huge blue eyes. Running his fingertips across her cheek, he sobbed. He stood that way for a long time before his tears ran dry. But they came anew when he went around the table and touched Dipak’s hand.

Ama was at the door, watching the boy grieve. Kam met her gaze, but they kept their silence. This was the boy’s time.

Then he went to the stove and began to make tea with trembling hands. Kam got up to make the tea for him, but Gytha caught his arm. She put her mouth close to his ear.

“Let him have a little normal,” she said.

Kam nodded and sat back down.

Jacob brought around the steaming mugs and even the small bowl of milk. Then he brought out bread and cheese. They had their breakfast in silence. Once they had all eaten, Jacob gathered and washed the dishes. He left the kitchen clean when he followed Kam out of the house. He sat in Kam’s lap in the front of the car. Gytha wrapped the bodies in blankets and carefully placed them in the back seat. She sat in the back. Ama sat behind the driver’s seat.

Quietly, Gytha asked the car to return them to Enaid. It obliged the request.

Word spread quickly. When Gytha lifted Dipak from the car, there was already fey waiting for her. She cradled him in her arms and walked between them slowly. They reached out their hands and touched him as she passed. They were silent. Gytha’s foot falls were quiet. Even the water and the leaves of the trees had gone still and hushed. Enaid had drawn up every sound into itself so that it could respect this moment of loss completely.

Once at the Tree of Life, Gytha bowed until her forehead was pressed against the rough, ancient bark. She had not only failed Dipak; she had failed Enaid and this great tree. Now she carried her shame home. Still, there were no tears for her to cry. No wailing caught in her throat. But there was a familiar ember of heat in her bowels. 

The trunk of the tree opened and Enaid stood at the entrance. Her brown hair stuck up from around her face in haphazard tufts. Her large brown eyes were full of unspilled tears. The full pink lips covered by the porcelain white tips of her fingers.

Enaid had never looked so human.

Her hands trembled as she reached for him. Trailing fingers over his cheek and kissing him on the forehead, Enaid let her tears fall upon his face. Close to his lips she whispered, “My sweet tormented friend, I wish I could release you as you once released my mother."

She smiled weakly. Enaid stepped aside and gestured with her hand.

“Please, bring him in,” she said.

Gytha obeyed. She laid him carefully at the center of the tree. Kneeling next to him, she looked down at his closed eyes. It seemed as though there was a part of him clinging about here in this body. Was that possible? Perhaps he clung to this flesh a while, until he was born into the next. There was no way to know the secrets of the Life Spark.

“This is not your fault,” Enaid said.

“You saw this coming,” Gytha said. “It’s why you sent the others.”

“I suspected that something might happen. There has always been violence when Raven and Dipak come together.”

Enaid looked in the direction of a large mushroom that hung from the wall, but her gaze was looking further away than that.

“I hoped that I could keep them together for a while,” she whispered. “They deserve that.”

“The gods owe them much,” Gytha snarled.

Enaid laughed. The lines on her face became hard and her eyes became dark. Every soft curve turned to a hard edge.

“The Gods are cruel,” she spat.

Kneeling down beside Dipak, on the opposite side from Gytha, she stroked his hair. Everything in Enaid had drained to white. There was no longer any color in her, even her eyes were flat white.

“We need to bury him,” she said.

“Jacob’s mother has also died. Dipak would want her honored as well,” Gytha said.

Enaid nodded and said “Bring her here.”

Gytha stood and the tree opened to allow her to leave.

“You have always protected me and I have never been able to protect you,” Enaid whispered.

Gytha stepped away from the tree and allowed it to close behind her; sealing Enaid’s weeping form into solitude. She would get only this brief moment to grieve him alone.

As she moved back through the crowd, they gave her curious and puzzled looks, but they kept the silence and they allowed her easy passage. She went to the car where the others waited as she had asked them to. None of them had been present when Dipak had last died. They did not know the way that Enaid would honor him. Gytha knew all too well. There were so few of them left who had known him from his last life.

Baring her teeth, she hissed. There was no reason that she should meet Dipak again. Pausing and looking down at the young boy that Dipak had risked everything for; she pressed her claws against her skin and drew blood. She crouched down in front of him and drew red lines across his face.

“I vow to you,” Gytha whispered. “On my blood, my life and my soul.”

He looked up at her with tears in his eyes.

She got up and took his mother from the car. She carried her with as much care as she had Dipak. Jacob watched her a moment, blinking his large blue eyes. Kam reached his hand out to the boy, but Jacob didn’t notice. He moved in to follow behind Gytha. They walked between the rows of Fey. First the people honored the mother, touching her and silently bidding her soul fair well. Then they bore witness to the oath that Jacob wore. Each touched one line of blood. With this the silence was briefly broken as they quietly spoke his name and then Gytha’s. Thus, there was a strange low hum of a chant as they moved up to the Life Tree. Gytha stopped at the tree without touching it.

Gytha looked down at him and was trying to decide how best to explain to him what this place was and why they were at this tree. But he stepped forward and gently pressed his palm against the bark.

“Horse,” he whispered.

Pressing both his hands hard against the tree, he broke into a sob and the tree opened before him. He stumbled in and fell. Enaid caught him in her arms.

“Enaid!” he wailed. “Why did they hurt him and Momma?”

She shook her head, holding the boy close to her and allowing him to sob into her long white hair. Offering no answers, she moved aside to allow room for Gytha to bring Heather in. The Mother was laid next to Dipak. Enaid sat between them, holding the boy in her lap. Reaching out, she held Dipak’s left hand and Heather’s right. Jacob’s arms were not long enough to reach their hands. He put his hands onto Enaid arms.

“Jacob, life begins with birth and always ends with death. But it is not forever. All is renewed. Gaia will take them back into herself. Your mother’s soul will return to the Life Stream and for a time will return to Original Unity. Take peace in knowing that. Gaia’s embrace is kind,” Enaid said.

“But not Dipak,” Jacob stated.

“No, not Dipak,” Enaid said. “He is a Life Spark. His Soul shall wander a time, but it cannot return to the Life Stream. It’s separate. He will be reborn with all that he is still inside him. His body may be the same or it may change. There are several aspects of the Life Spark.”

Gytha left them to mourn in their strange way. She did not feel that she was a part of this. There were arrangements to be made and that was a way that she could be useful. Being useful was something that she could understand. She gathered the fey about her and she growled commands out to them. No one questioned her authority. She had been given none, but they were looking for someone to tell them what to do and she had taken that role. So, they obeyed. Their willingness to follow so blindly added to her deepening rage.

Blindness. All was blindness. There was no seeing and without it there was no understanding. Why had this even happened? When would Dipak return? There was a darkness gathering. She could sense it. The Life Spark was needed, but would he return in time? What age would he be when that dark wave came upon them? Time was the factor that she could not figure into any of the plans for their future.

She sent clothing to the Tree of Life so that the boy would be in proper attire. She also sent clothing for The Mother if the boy wanted her to be dressed in something formal. There was also the usual dress that Enaid wore. Always the same. These arrangements were easy to make because Enaid always wanted them the same. Each time Dipak fell, his funeral was the same.

Raking her claws into the bark of a tree, she gave a low guttural moan. How many times would he be set to the dark waters?

Oils, candles, flowers and other such details were paraded before her. She decided upon each and sent them on their way. Kam came to her empty handed and she waved a dismissive hand to him. But he did not move away. She hissed and gestured to the line behind him. Still he stood there.

“What?” Gytha asked.

Kam’s gesture asked her to follow him away from those who had gathered before her. She did. They walked along a path that wound between the flowering trees. Pink petals rained around them and carpeted the forest floor. The smell of cherries and thyme filled the air.

“It’s not your fault,” Kam said.

Gytha gave no response as she continued to walk beside him. There was nothing to say. A vow was a strong thing and there was no excuse for breaking it. Her blood had dried on that face when it was still a babe.

Kam stopped and plucked a blossom from a low hanging branch. Brushing it across his lips he looked at her.

“Why do you vow yourself to him? You have each time he is born. Why?” Kam asked.

She gave no answer. There was none to give.

“Perhaps, when he returns, you should know the answer before you give the vow again,” Kam whispered.

Heat burst inside her and she reached out. Clutching his throat, she easily lifted him from the ground. He offered no resistance. She slammed him against a tree and let him go. He crumbled to his knees and coughed weakly. With one hand on his throat and the other on the tree, he looked up at her. His eyes filled with tears, but those drops of water meant nothing to her. Was this pity? Fear?

She hissed and turned away. Long strides took her quickly to the Tree of Life where she found all was ready. Pressing a hand against the bark, it opened and she stepped inside. She found them as she had left them except that their tears were spent.

“It’s time,” she said.

Enaid nodded and rose. She had changed into the gown. The boy had changed into the suit that had been provided to him. The Mother was still in the clothing she had arrived in.

Gytha lifted their bodies to the simple pine board stretchers that waited outside the tree. Gytha carried the front of Dipak’s stretcher. The procession was led by Enaid and Jacob. They held hands as they walked.

Enaid’s hair was long and silver with tendrils of gold. The gown trailed behind her; silver with golden trim that shimmered in the fading light. The boy’s suit matched. Gytha wore no special attire, just the simple wisps of web that Angerona had woven her.

They walked in silence. The dirt path led through all Enaid and all the fey filed in behind them as the procession passed until all the people were included. Then they went to the great iron gates. Two large trees stood with intertwined limbs, holding the gates between them within their bound fingers. This was the only iron in all of Enaid. None of the fey, except the now dead Queen, could touch it. This was a forbidden place. Yet, on this day, all would enter here. Even this young human.

Enaid stepped up to the gate and the boy followed. She pressed her hand against the iron bars and the boy did the same. The giant trees shuddered and they shrugged themselves as if they struggled to recall how to move. Slowly, the branches unwound themselves. Leaves ruffled and the wood creaked. The sounds were loud in the hush. Once fully untangled, the trees straighten themselves to their full height, towering above all other things within Enaid, even the Tree of Life. Heaving their roots up from the ground, they took huge steps to the side in a lurch.

Bowing deeply, they regarded the Life Dryad with deep, black eyes.

The gates swung open.

The procession continued, following the white stones that led from the gate. It was a long and twisting stretch; like a chalk line drawn in the dark soil of the forest floor. The heavy branches arched overhead and blocked out all view of the sky. Shadow settled over them. Candles were lit and each person carried one before them; all except those that carried the weight of the dead and the two that were in the lead. For those without lights, the small lighted insects and fairies traveled close.

The stones stopped as abruptly as they had begun. They had marched into a large, circular clearing with a rectangular pool at the center. Enaid led Jacob to the water’s edge. The stretchers were also taken up to the water; one laid on either side of  the pool. Gytha remained near the dead as did one of the other bearers, Indra. The rest of the fey fled to the edges of the clearing, pressing themselves together. They sought to be as far from the water as possible.

The air was dry and warm. Steam rose from the pool in coiling, white wisps. The dark water gave no reflection.

Enaid released Jacob’s hand and the boy stayed where she left him. The soft soles of her boots gave no sound as they sunk down in the soft soil. Crouching down, she scooped up a handful. It was easy to see the way that her hand grew pink from the heat of it. She sprinkled it over the still surface of the water.

“Reconnecting broken pieces,” she whispered, but her voice carried.

Ripples spread outward across the water. She rose and stepped back.

“These dark waters are the Well of Creation. From them the Life Spark arises. To them it is returned,” Enaid said.

Indra slipped over the edge of the pool. The water was like a thin oil that slid up over his blue skin and then seeped into him. The boundary between him and the water seemed to be dissolving. Once in the middle of the pool, he lifted up his arms and Gytha lowered Dipak down to him.

“Rachna, we return the Life Spark,” Enaid whispered.

Indra lowered Dipak down and the dark water washed up over him. Gytha wanted to snatch him back. A tightness gripped her chest as the water slipped up over his face. Pressing her claws against her chest, she forced herself to breathe deeply. Then he was gone. Gripping her hands into fists, she had raked her claws over her skin and drew blood without being aware.

Always, his body slipped down into a place past the water. She had gone in once, after the others had left. Feeling in the darkness, she had searched through the silt and sand, but his body had been gone. Rachna had taken him to some other place where she could not follow. If she had been able to, she would have gone there with him. It had been blasphemy. But Rachna had not struck her down; had not consumed her. It put her in the ranks of those who had survived drinking the dark waters, but she had told no one. It meant nothing. She had not returned with special powers or some great universal knowledge. She was the same. Forgiveness was the only gift she had received that day. It was enough.

“Rachna, we bring The Mother,” Enaid whispered.

Indra again raised up his arms and Gytha lowered down Heather’s body. She was lowered down in the same manner that Dipak had been. And the dark waters accepted this offering the way that it accepted all offerings.

Indra stood still for a moment before he lifted himself from the pool. Then the stretchers were carefully broken down and piled next to the pool. They were burned and the ashes were sprinkled into the water; the last offering for the day. Then the procession returned the way that it had come. Gytha lingered behind as she had every other time.

She sat down next to the pool and looked down at the water.

“Where do you take him?” she asked.