Hope in Ruins Book III: The Fountain and the City of Salt

Chapter 6: The Hammer and the Kilns

MICA

Mica stopped some paces from the dark figure at the edge of the roof. She was so small, so light, that Mica worried that she'd blow away off the edge of the roof into the darkness below.

"Anda," she called against the wind. The figure inclined her head at the sound but did not turn around. "It's me. It's Mica.

The figure turned slowly and eyed her sister. The hazy light washed all the angles and definition out of her face, leaving her a blurred and glowing image of herself.

"What... are you doing here?" Anda asked.

"We came to bring you home."

Ben carefully stepped closer to Anda, but she stepped back towards the ledge. Ben stopped, holding his hands up to her like he was surrendering.

"Home. Where... where is home?" Anda asked.

"With us," Mica said. "We want you to come home to us, Anda."

She shook her head. "Call me, Mara. And I... I am home. I belong in Windrose."

"No, you belong with us."

"After I killed him?" Anda asked. "You really... want me back after... that?"
Mica hesitated. Peter's glazed and unseeing eyes stared at her from deep inside her memory. "What I thought," Anda said. "I saw the way you... you looked at me after you found out."

"They're coming," Stephen said, clutching his head. "Watchers... they're coming...."

Terror and adrenaline flooded Mica's veins.

"Anda, I forgive you," Ben said quickly. "Please, come home. It's what Peter would want."

She shook her head. "I am sorry about... about Peter. You have no idea how sorry I am. But I can't go back, and I can't... fix it. I can't remember anymore. You should go before... before the Watchers get here."

"We're not leaving you, Anda," Ben said. He stared at her with an intensity that Mica had never seen before. His eyes glowed black and blue, blue like the sky, blue-green like the warmest, saltiest water. His eyes glowed night and sky and eclipses, like stars and void. His nose began to bleed, not just a bit, but it poured down his face as he stared at Anda. Mica swallowed back a rising feeling as the sight. But Anda would not look at him.

Anda tilted her head, and her eyelids fluttered. "No. Just... just go. I'm not going to be responsible for anyone else... dying."

Then Mica saw the little honeyed dart in Anda's hand. The yellow serum in the needle caught the dim city lights and winked at her. Mica squeezed her eyes shut, and in her mind, clear as day, she saw the hammer in her mother's hand, glinting in the fading sunlight. She opened her eyes and looked at Anda.

"Anda. I'm not leaving you. I forgive you."

"But I killed Peter—you saw it!" she said, opening her eyes wide.

"Peter wanted you to remember who you are. He didn't die so that you would forget him and us—not like this. He wanted you to know who you really are. That was why he ran after you."

Anda shook her head.

"They're getting closer..." Stephen said. "There are... so many. Too many."

"He ran after you because he loved you, and so do we."

"I don't... believe you. That's not possible."

"Anda, you're my sister, and I'm not leaving you."

"Then I guess I... don't have a choice... do I?" Anda said. With a quick motion, she brought the little needle up to her neck.

"No!" Mica screamed and stretched out her hand to Anda. And she felt her sister's hand, felt the tension in her fingers, the cold syringe in her fist, the wind running its fingers across her exposed skin. But she also felt warmth tingling through her own fingers, and something warm ran down her face.