Once We Were Starlight

I woke with a start, another scream rising from my throat as my eyes flew open.

“Karys,” Liri whispered harshly. “Wake up.”

I blinked, trying desperately to orient myself, to calm the rising tide of fear that the dream had brought. I looked around, noticing that Zakai was gone. The room was still shrouded in darkness, shades of pewter just beginning to unfurl around the window curtain. It was barely dawn. “What’s wrong? Where’s Zakai?”

“Zakai is with Bertha. She isn’t well.”

I sat up with a start, blood rushing to my head. I grimaced, but still managed to pull myself to my feet. Hastily I dressed in my tunic and then followed Liri from the room, walking quickly across the moonlit grass into the room where Zakai sat next to Bertha, his head bent forward. “. . . forgive me,” I heard him whisper.

“Oh my boy, I already have,” Bertha answered.

I moved forward, past Spider who sat near the door, a mournful look on his long face, his eyes shiny with what looked like unshed tears.

My heart beat swiftly in my chest, fear dancing across my skin. “Bertha,” I breathed, rushing to her bed and falling to my knees beside her. She turned her head slowly, her hand clutching mine as Zakai lifted his eyes.

“Karys sweet,” she said, her voice reedy and thin. “You’re here.”

“I’m going to get you some more water from the well,” Zakai said, leaning in and kissing her forehead. She lifted her hand and brought it to his cheek, looking on him with love in her eyes. “Take care of her,” she whispered. “And, Zakai, take care of you too.”

The fear treading lightly upon me now picked up its tempo. I had noticed Bertha had been walking slower of late, and I’d watched as she struggled more greatly than usual to catch her breath. I’d heard Zakai ask her forgiveness, and thought it must have been for not recognizing how ill she really was. Because the way she was speaking . . . as if . . . no, I wouldn’t even think such a thing.

Zakai smiled softly at Bertha and then lifted his gaze to me. “I’ll be back,” he said.

I nodded, turning my attention to Bertha, watching as she worked to pull in a breath of air. I laid my cheek upon her knuckle, my tears wetting her skin.

“Don’t cry, my darling,” she said and, when I raised my head, I saw that her lips had tipped so very slightly, though with obvious effort as they quivered at the corners.

I used my thumb to smooth her smile flat. “Don’t comfort me, Bertha,” I said. “I’m here to comfort you. To help you recover—”

“Oh no, my precious love. There is no recovering for me,” she said with a small shake of her head. “This body of mine did the best it could for as long as it was able. I’m only sorry—” She sucked in a thin, shaky breath.

“Sorry for what?” I asked. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

She squeezed my hand in hers. “Oh, there is. It’s just . . .” She moved her gaze, staring behind me. “We needed something beautiful, Karys. And you are so precious to all of us. You’ve been our light, our hope that there is still good in the world. More.” Her eyes met mine. “But—” She grimaced, bringing her hand to her chest.

“Oh Bertha, don’t talk. We have plenty of time for that later. Just rest. I’ll bring you some food and a soft cloth for your head.”

“No,” she insisted, a thread of strength entering her voice. “This isn’t all there is. Maybe I shouldn’t have sheltered you. Maybe he shouldn’t have either. But, Karys, oh my darling, it was done in love.”

My heart thumped heavily. “Everything you’ve ever done has been in love, Bertha, I know that.”

Her eyes grew cloudy. For a moment she stared through me as if I wasn’t there. “I hope someday you can come to forgive us.” Her hand reached for mine again and I took it as her fingers curled around my own. “I hope you have reason to hate us first. But, Karys . . .” Her words melted into breath and I had to lean forward to hear the remainder of what she had to say. “Don’t hate us forever.”

She raised her hand and ran it over my cheek, her lids closing as her hand dropped to the bed.

She lay still and silent. My vision swam as my gut clenched. “Bertha!” I cried, leaning over her and shaking her wide shoulders. “Bertha!” Her massive body jiggled and shook with my efforts but she did not open her eyes. No, no, no! “You can’t leave me!” You are my family. I cannot exist without you! Wailing, I laid my head on her chest, wrapping my arms around her, clutching at her clothing, listening for the steady rhythm of her heart. But below my ear was only silence. Another wail rose in me just as the sun crested the sky, a ray of light filtering through the curtain and washing over Bertha’s sweet face. Her gentle heart had ceased beating. I had lost another person among the few who were dear and beloved to me.