A Gathering Wave

Chapter 1

The stars cascaded and fell silent into darkness. A darkness so complete that sight could be forgotten.

It was here she waited for him, holding darkness in her spirit—always holding it at bay.

He came to her as the rising sun. He was a light to end all nights, to vanquish all fears, to corrupt all hearts with life and music.

The blackness ebbed away, the oldest of all the seas. It ebbed into her, and there she held it, watching him come for her. Come to her. She waited, and he followed, and that was always their way. From the beginning. Until the end.

Tonight it would end.

Ferridan steeled herself against his love. She threaded starlight into her veins so that she was bursting with it. She let it flow through her until she felt everything. Until she felt nothing.

When he arrived, ascending the mountain-top, he came to her like a song. The world sang for him. Worshipped him. And so did she. How could she not? After all, he was her god. After all, he had created her.

He was her god. And tonight, she would kill him.

***

June, 2014

It wasn't hard to find him. He was exactly where Logan had left him: in a lot, under a tree. His headstone was white marble. As white as when they had buried him four years ago. There were fresh flowers—which brought her comfort and sadness. The only person here who would visit was her father. But at least someone was visiting.

It was hard to know where to begin. Goodbyes were always awkward that way. Logan reached for the coin in her front pocket. She thought of Tommy every day, sometimes every hour, sometimes more. And even though the coin was just another reminder of his loss, somehow it always grounded her.

She thought about leaving the coin there with him—burying it. Because if she was there to say goodbye, why not? It had been his wish, after all—not hers.

A warm breeze snaked up Logan's back, disturbing strands of hair that lifted to tickle her face. It made her smile. It reminded her of him. And she was struck by the sudden but not foreign feeling that he was with her.

He was with her all the time the last few months. In dreams, in episodes Logan didn't know how to describe. In every little boy she saw walking down the street, in the birds who rose early and sang with the rising sun.

Recently it had been different, though. The last few months he had been insistent. Was he telling her it was time to say goodbye? To really say goodbye?

Logan sighed.

She sank to the ground and curled her legs up under her, still holding the silver coin in her hand.

Thomas O'Sullivan II

April 17th, 2001—December 23rd, 2012.

Beloved grandson, son, and brother.

They hadn't written anything else.

And so it went. The days came and with them pain and some days were better than others, and some days were worse.

"I'm not here to wallow," Logan said. And another warm breeze stirred her hair again, as if in reply.

She did her best not to think about the night it had happened. Not because she was running from her past and not because she refused to accept it. But because there were some things in life that even time couldn't fix.

"Maybe I am still angry at the world, but I'm trying to learn how to forgive. I thought I came here to stay goodbye to you, to try and let go of this feeling," she paused, dragging in another breath. It was so painful sometimes, just to breathe. "But I don't think that's why I'm here..." she said, her voice lost in another breeze that set the fallen leaves around her dancing.