The Morrigan

The Morrigan Pt. 4

We fall slowly, as if the air tries to push us back to the cliff, back to safety. I watch my hair flutter above my body, then turn in the wind to see the quickly approaching ocean surface, which glimmers an inviting dark cerulean. When my skin first meets the icy water, it's a jolt that squeezes my soul. I suck in a sharp breath, and my lungs fill with salt, but pain does not accompany the cold.

Cormac lets go of my hand and floats upward, but I let myself hover in the twilight void for a moment longer, watching rays of light shatter and reconstruct beneath the shifting waves. At the surface, the boy paddles in patient circles.

"Is it what you imagined?" I ask, taking in the brisk air. He grins wildly.

"Even better. I've never done anything like that before."

I return his smile, but a flicker of apprehension burns at the base of my skull, and nausea creeps up my throat.

His time is soon; my heart tells me so.

"Care to watch the sunset?" I ask, guiding him to a patch of shore with soft sand instead of pebbles. If I can distract him, he won't even notice his withering tether to this planet.

We sit side by side, and I lean back on my hands with my legs outstretched toward the dying sun. Cormac remains cross-legged with his chin resting in his palm, and he stares out across the beryl-blue expanse. The view is spectacular, but I can't tear my gaze away from his poor, declining human body.

"I wish I could have stayed longer," he whispers, breaking the silence. "Or maybe not wasted so much time."

I know, I want to shout. I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry.

"You have not wasted anything," I assure him. "Mortality never suited you. I can see you were meant to last much longer than you have."

He glances at me, this time tearless. He is fortified, but with acceptance, not anger or resentment toward that which he cannot control.

"Morrigan," he murmurs, reaching for my hand. "I'm a little tired. Can I lay with you?"

I nod. He does not suspect a thing, of that much I am sure. I lay on my side, facing the burning sea, and he curls in front of me with his head resting on my arm. His breaths grow shallow as the minutes pass, as our shore dips into shadow, and I wrap my other arm around him to keep the chill at bay.

For years, I've allowed Mirage to exploit my power... I've allowed myself to be complicit. I am a god. Above all, I am allowed to connect with whomever I want.

"There is beauty in the end of every day," I say. "Much like the beginning."

The boy squeezes my hand.

"Dusk and dawn are not so different, Cormac... and the night will not last forever. There will always be another sunrise, you just have to be there to watch it."

His grip loosens, and the body in my arms falls limp. I sense his energy depart, leaving the shell behind, and a warmth hangs in the air just behind me.

"Thank you," he says, his voice holding a deep hum. "For staying with me. I'm ready to go now."

Cormac looks brighter as he stands, leaving no indent in the sand below his ever-so-slightly luminous feet. His cheeks are fuller, his eyes brighter... even his posture commands reverence, as if his courage and pride have finally returned.

He reminds me of my neighbors back home, of those who cannot die, except his smile is more true.

A dangerous thought crosses my mind... what if?