Starsinger

Roots

Aaron hadn't expected an afterlife.

The luminaries say that all life is stardust, and so nothing ever truly dies. Life simply moves on. The magic that taught your heart to beat melts back into the earth, the air, the ocean, and finds some other creature to bring into being. A blade of grass. A barnacle. Maybe even another person.

Aaron always thought, if he had any say, that he would like his life to go to a tree. As a child he'd wished and prayed for it so hard his mother had grown concerned. "The trees know everything, mama," he'd told her.

When consciousness first returned to him, he could feel his roots arching downwards, anchoring him. He was surprised it was so dark. Trees need sunlight. How will I grow?

Then he remembered to open his eyes.

It was disorienting, realizing he was not a tree. He was lying on a narrow cot stuffed with feathers. The roots he'd felt were thin strips of cotton, wrapped around his limbs at regular intervals and tied snugly to the bed.

"He's awake."

Aaron tried to turn his head but found another cotton bond pinned his neck in place. He managed only a weak tilt, but it was enough to see Jace grinning like a madman from the cot beside him.

"Can't seem to get rid of you," Aaron croaked. His throat was dry and clotted.

Jace laughed, then winced and clutched at his stomach. Aaron noticed there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Aaron?" Delia's voice came from across the room. It was a small room, well lit with candles and clean. Too clean. A recovery room. Delia pulled herself up into a sitting position on the furthest cot. "Gods be praised. How do you feel?"

How did he feel? "Tired. But fine. Finer than I would expect, considering—"

He remembered falling, down and down into the darkness.

Delia stood slowly and moved towards him. She was using a cane to keep herself upright. Gods, she looks exhausted. Aaron had never seen her so thin, her cheeks so shallow. She pushed herself to the edge again. Beyond.

So did I. "I should be dead," said Aaron.

"That's what the doctors said." Carefully, Delia perched on the edge of Jace's cot. "When they found you, they said every bone had been shattered, but they, the bones, they were... moving. On their own. Trying to fuse back together."

"Malcolm?" Aaron asked. "Did he...?"

"Malcolm was less lucky," Delia said coolly.

Aaron tried to move again and failed.

"They strapped you down to make it easier," Delia explained. "To make sure they healed in the right shapes. They figured it was a side effect of the flare."

Aaron blinked. "The flare?"

"That's what they're calling it," Jace said. "All the ambassadors and the diplomats. They've been swarming the place for weeks now. Crolton surrendered on the spot, but the treaty negotiations have been impossible."

"They're afraid," said Delia. "Everything's changing now. News of mage revolts in the west, sightings of strange beasts... Even our own people are frightened. There was an eruption, somewhere in the Teeth. You can see the cloud of ash from Aster. Raelyn has been talking to the crown, the First Officers, and every high-ranking nobleman with an axe to grind trying to explain what happened."

"Trying to make sure we don't get strung up for treason," Jace grumbled. He coughed, and cringed again. Delia started to get up and he grabbed her hand.

"Not you," he rasped. "Just this damn wound. Stay."

Delia glared at him. "If you reopen that damn wound now when it's so close to healing, I'll kill you myself."

"Promises, promises."

"Where is she?" Aaron asked.

There was a pause. Neither one of them met his eyes.

"Where is Sapphire?"