The Shadow Behind the Stars Read Online Free Page B
Author: Rebecca Hahn
thousand, a million, countless snaps , only just touching the thread, inevitable nothings.
We are one another, the hands that pass the thread, connecting us to the others, beginning to middle to end.
So we know more than anything how it twists and turns, how one wrong tug undoes it all. There was danger on the wind tonight; there was danger in this wandering girl. It was so close, and I knew just how easily we could fall into it. If Serena would not take her spell away, if Xinot would not turn Aglaia out, then I would have to do something myself to get rid of her, and soon.
Three
THE MORNING AFTER AGLAIA ARRIVED, as soon as she had awoken, I took her out to sea in our boat.
It was only a little wooden skiff, and my sisters and I hardly used it. Mostly, we never left our island, not to go out to sea, not to visit the mainland. There was enough right where we were to occupy us. The wind would blow until we tasted salt with every breath. Or the sea would calm so still, youâd think you could step across it as across a clear glass floor.
If youâve never lived by the sea, you might not understand the way the world shifts so thoroughly at its edge. We didnât leave our rock, but it transformed from day to day, as did the colors of the waves and the texture of the sky. We stayed, unaltered; even our clothes never tore or grew so soiled one dip in the sea couldnât freshen them. But all about us, gulls twisted, and rocks crumbled off and were swept back to shore,and the whole earth melted and billowed itself into an endless variety of forms.
It reminded us of the limitations of our powers. That was another reason we went outside every night: to feel the galaxies sweeping over us, and to remember anew how very small we were, how unable to alter the threads that wove through each of our days, and how uselessâhow blasphemousâit would be to wish it otherwise.
We had not always been so isolated. Once, long ago, we had lived among you mortals on the mainland, and we had seen you almost every day. Some of you traveled great distances just to sample our wine. Others thought we would answer questions or even spin new fortunes. We wouldnât, of course, and we soon turned these away, but it didnât keep you from coming. It was too tempting, I supposeâthe idea that there might be a shortcut past the harder parts of life.
We hadnât returned your visits; we were solitary, even then. I liked the awe of mortals, the way you cast down your eyes and stood aside to let me pass. Especially the young, muscled men, the ones with calloused hands and life pouring through them. I did not speak to them, but I liked to think that they would have done my bidding, had I asked it. And Xinot didnât engage with you even as much as I did. She slipped by you as a drifting chill. She sat silent on her stump when visitors came, and she stared off into nothing, and the shadows gathered around her.
The human children, though, had been somehow drawn to my middle sister, and she to them. Serena used to play withthem out in their fieldsâgames of chase, dancing rhymes, and braiding hair and flowers. She had favorites, first one child, and then another as that one grew. She spent more time with these, teaching them crafts and the language of trees, bringing them home to feed them sometimes. She loved to watch them grow.
At first, when her children passed into adulthood, and then old age, and finally left her completely, Serena had only smiled sadly and let them go. There were always more children, after allâsome of them the daughters and sons of earlier ones. But Serena had always felt herself too much a mother. And mothers arenât meant to watch their children grow old, and older, and then disappear. They arenât meant to go on living after their children have gone.
It ate away at her. Not all at once, but we could see the sadness growing in her eyes. Xinot had worried more than I did. I thought
We are one another, the hands that pass the thread, connecting us to the others, beginning to middle to end.
So we know more than anything how it twists and turns, how one wrong tug undoes it all. There was danger on the wind tonight; there was danger in this wandering girl. It was so close, and I knew just how easily we could fall into it. If Serena would not take her spell away, if Xinot would not turn Aglaia out, then I would have to do something myself to get rid of her, and soon.
Three
THE MORNING AFTER AGLAIA ARRIVED, as soon as she had awoken, I took her out to sea in our boat.
It was only a little wooden skiff, and my sisters and I hardly used it. Mostly, we never left our island, not to go out to sea, not to visit the mainland. There was enough right where we were to occupy us. The wind would blow until we tasted salt with every breath. Or the sea would calm so still, youâd think you could step across it as across a clear glass floor.
If youâve never lived by the sea, you might not understand the way the world shifts so thoroughly at its edge. We didnât leave our rock, but it transformed from day to day, as did the colors of the waves and the texture of the sky. We stayed, unaltered; even our clothes never tore or grew so soiled one dip in the sea couldnât freshen them. But all about us, gulls twisted, and rocks crumbled off and were swept back to shore,and the whole earth melted and billowed itself into an endless variety of forms.
It reminded us of the limitations of our powers. That was another reason we went outside every night: to feel the galaxies sweeping over us, and to remember anew how very small we were, how unable to alter the threads that wove through each of our days, and how uselessâhow blasphemousâit would be to wish it otherwise.
We had not always been so isolated. Once, long ago, we had lived among you mortals on the mainland, and we had seen you almost every day. Some of you traveled great distances just to sample our wine. Others thought we would answer questions or even spin new fortunes. We wouldnât, of course, and we soon turned these away, but it didnât keep you from coming. It was too tempting, I supposeâthe idea that there might be a shortcut past the harder parts of life.
We hadnât returned your visits; we were solitary, even then. I liked the awe of mortals, the way you cast down your eyes and stood aside to let me pass. Especially the young, muscled men, the ones with calloused hands and life pouring through them. I did not speak to them, but I liked to think that they would have done my bidding, had I asked it. And Xinot didnât engage with you even as much as I did. She slipped by you as a drifting chill. She sat silent on her stump when visitors came, and she stared off into nothing, and the shadows gathered around her.
The human children, though, had been somehow drawn to my middle sister, and she to them. Serena used to play withthem out in their fieldsâgames of chase, dancing rhymes, and braiding hair and flowers. She had favorites, first one child, and then another as that one grew. She spent more time with these, teaching them crafts and the language of trees, bringing them home to feed them sometimes. She loved to watch them grow.
At first, when her children passed into adulthood, and then old age, and finally left her completely, Serena had only smiled sadly and let them go. There were always more children, after allâsome of them the daughters and sons of earlier ones. But Serena had always felt herself too much a mother. And mothers arenât meant to watch their children grow old, and older, and then disappear. They arenât meant to go on living after their children have gone.
It ate away at her. Not all at once, but we could see the sadness growing in her eyes. Xinot had worried more than I did. I thought
Readers choose
Bradford Bates
Philippa Carr
Shirley Jump
Peter Brandvold
V. St. Clair
Becca St. John
Naima Simone
John Daulton
J. Roberts
Serdar Ozkan