Infinite

17 DEFIANCE

HE WAS RIGHT. I’d been making decisions based on what made me most comfortable.

Forcing them to come north with me. Not telling them the truth about reincarnation. Keeping my silence with the group. Avoiding Sam.

But now I knew what to do.

It was a terrible plan, but as I stood there with my spine against the tree, my breath misting on the frigid air where the heat of Sam’s body had already dissipated, I knew it was the right plan.

My eyes closed and my face lifted to the treetops and sky beyond, I whispered, “Please,” to nothing. To everything. To something greater than me. “Please let this be right.”

Only the wind answered, howling through the valley and around the trees. Ice clattered and hoarfrost trembled. No wonder the phoenixes had built a prison this far north: dragons, freezing weather, and utter solitude.

I shivered and pushed toward camp again.

Inside the tent, Stef glanced up from the tray of rabbit jerky as she dropped the finished strips into a bag, but she didn’t speak. The sylph assisting her hummed and twisted darkly, and Sam, with his knees pulled up to his chest, rested his forehead on his arms.

Unbidden, my mind conjured an image of the three of them in the temple’s skeleton chamber, offering their wrists to Janan’s Hallow. Silver chains clattered and gleamed. A million souls said yes to the exchange. A million souls traded countless lives for their own infinity.

My friends wore chains inside the temple.

I shook away the dark fancy as Whit met my eyes, offering a weak smile. “We need to get moving soon,” he said. “We’re already behind. Only four weeks until Soul Night.”

“We should turn around.” I startled at the sound of my voice, breathless and rough with chill. “We should return to Menehem’s lab for the poison.”

Sam looked up.

“Just . . . go back.” While they stared at me, openmouthed, I retreated to my sleeping bag and pulled out my notebook, but Stef didn’t give me a chance to get lost in my work.

She slammed her tray on the ground. “Now you realize what a stupid plan this was? Now, after we’ve come all this way?”

I spoke to my notebook, monotone. “I’ve put you in enough danger. And like Whit said, we have only four weeks before Soul Night. We don’t have time to linger up here. We’ll be more useful in Range.”

“I can’t believe this.” Stef surged to her feet. “What about this weapon you were so convinced we needed?”

The dragons’ weapon? I had no idea what it was. Or how I’d request an object I couldn’t even describe. The temple books were next to useless on the subject, too.

“How long have you been thinking we should go back?” Stef went on. “One week? Two? You’re right: we could do more in Range. We could have been doing more in Range. But you said you had a plan. Then you dragged us up here. And now you say it’s time to turn around, having accomplished nothing but wasted time.”

There was no way to respond to that, so I just frowned at my notebook and bit the insides of my cheeks. Still, my eyes prickled with tears and I had to turn my head away from everyone.

“Are you satisfied?” Stef’s voice broke. “Are you happy that you’ve steered us so far off course?”

“Stop.” Whit heaved a sigh and gathered an armful of lanterns and battery chargers. “Just stop. Yelling won’t help.” He took everything outside to let it charge in the sunlight.

Stef marched after him, and a moment later their voices came, arguing about the best way back to Range.

From behind the shield of my notebook, I caught Sam watching me from the corner of his eye. But I didn’t acknowledge him, just lowered my eyes and began writing.

Sam had always believed in me. When I’d thought I was a nosoul, he’d insisted otherwise. He’d encouraged me until I believed, too. And when I’d thought there was no way I could help rewrite “Ana Incarnate” after Li had burned it in a fire, Sam had told me I could do anything. His belief had made me believe.

When he said he’d go anywhere with me, I’d suggested the moon and the bottom of the ocean. He’d liked that I thought big.

Now he was here with me. In the north. With dragons.

And my plan was too big, too wild. It was crazier than going to the moon.

I didn’t blame him for not believing in me anymore. It hurt, but the truth was that he’d put up with a lot more than anyone would have expected. But his anger earlier and his silence now spun a thread of defiance in me.

I would reach the dragons. And I’d convince them to help.

The others spent the day discussing routes and gathering enough food to last a few days, because clouds threatened snow. Sylph helped wherever they could, but kept shooting me little whines of disappointment.

After supper, everyone found their sleeping bags and tucked themselves in for the night. Sam gave me a long, weary look, and I remembered again that he’d stopped believing in me.

“Get some rest,” he whispered. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

As if they hadn’t all been long. Yet still too short.

I burrowed into my sleeping bag, zipped it up all the way, and muffled my sobs with my mittens. How could this be so physically painful? We hadn’t touched. We’d barely spoken. I wished myself back in time, back to the first moment I met him. If I could start over again, I’d open up to him immediately. I’d have kissed him in the kitchen, rather than being disappointed he hadn’t kissed me. And after the masquerade, I’d have rushed him home before we could be attacked, then told him we’d be sharing a bedroom from now on.

But I wasn’t back in time. I was now. In my stuffy sleeping bag with all my things packed and a short note to leave in my place. Well, all my things except for the temple books. They wouldn’t help where I was going.

An hour later, the tent was filled with soft snores and deep breathing. I peeked my head out of my sleeping bag and checked, but no one stirred. Only the shadows shifted, their attention falling on me.

I pressed my finger to my lips. “Shh.”

Cris floated toward me, curiosity in the way he writhed like flame, but he was soundless as I pulled out my letter and reread it one more time before leaving it by Sam.

My friends,

By the time you wake, I’ll be gone. I hope you won’t follow. It was selfish of me to ask you to come this far. This isn’t your duty.

I don’t know if I’ll succeed, but I’m going to try to find answers, to find help. Someone told me he believed I could do anything, be anything I wanted because I’m new. He made me realize that one of my best qualities is not listening to what other people think I should do. He made me believe in myself.

If I have only one life, I’m not going to waste it. I’m going to fight for what I believe in. I believe in this.

I hope you can believe in me too.

I love you all,

Ana who Has Life

Quietly, I rolled my sleeping bag and strapped on my flute case, then secured my backpack over my shoulders. Cris and a handful of sylph followed me into the winter night, questions in their quiet songs.

-Where are you going?-

“To the prison,” I whispered.

-We’ll go with you.-

“Half of you stay with them. They’ll still need sylph.”

Cris bristled. -We are your army. We follow you.-

I crept away from the tent, careful where I placed my feet. My flashlight beam was weak, dimmed with the end of my scarf covering it. I didn’t want anyone to wake and notice the light. “You’re my army, so you’ll follow my orders, right?”

A few of the sylph grumbled, but finally Cris nodded and handful of shadows peeled away, heading back for the tent.

After one last look at the tent and my friends inside, I walked north, uncovering my flashlight once there was a thick layer of trees behind me. “Is there an easy way down the cliff that will get me to the prison wall?”

A few sylph darted ahead to scout a path.

-Sam will be angry.- Cris stayed beside me, keeping me warm. Snow drifted through the forest, melting away in my sylph’s heat.

“He’ll live.” I watched my step over a tangle of roots, listening hard for sounds of pursuit or animals in the forest. Dragons aside, other creatures were unlikely to bother me with sylph so near, but Sam had been right when he said I could fall or get hurt, and sylph wouldn’t be able to help. I had to be careful.

I could go back. I could sneak into the tent, crumple up the letter, and go to sleep. No one would ever know, except for the sylph, and they would keep my secret.

But I pressed on through the deepening night, following the sylph to a snowy path. My boot skidded, sending me to my butt and knocking the air out of me. I found my feet again, wincing at a new bruise as one of the sylph heated enough to dry my clothes.

“Can one of you—” I waved at the steep path that wound down the slope. It looked like a dragon path, all the branches above shredded and the ground littered with sticks and fallen evergreen needles, creating traps beneath the snow. “Melt it? Harden it?”

Sylph eased into a line, singing softly to one another. Steam rose around them, hot and hissing like a part of their melody. Heat billowed around me, smelling of ozone and ash; a trickle of sweat crawled down the back of my neck.

Within minutes, it was done. The sylph seemed to shake themselves as they returned to my side, only one or two leading me down the now-dry path.

“Thank you.” I had my light, so I could see the twigs and leaves on the ground, but as we descended into the valley, they glowed red and then crumbled to ash when I stepped on them. The sylph were being careful with me.

-We’re so close,- Cris sang. -I don’t know if what you’re trying will work, but we sylph love you for the effort. We’ll do anything it takes to protect you.-

Ah, and we were going to see the dragons, so no wonder he’d wanted all the sylph.

I stretched out a hand for him, and tendrils of shadow wound around my wrist and up my forearm.

I took the hill carefully, testing rocks before I trusted my weight to them. Every step took me away from my friends and into danger, but an odd sense of peace pushed through me. I’d said in my letter to Sam and the others that I believed in what I was doing, and I did. This was right. I couldn’t give up.

I only realized I was humming when the sylph began singing with me, eerie and unearthly sounds that echoed through the night. Our song lifted, warm and rich like honey as it filled the dragon path and ran down ahead of us.

Sylph undulated in the darkness, tendrils of shadow reaching for the snowy sky as they danced. When we found level ground, I twirled awkwardly in my heavy backpack and all the sylph gathered around, burning with joy. They coiled around one another, around me as though I were one of them, and all of the sylph made flowers bloom. I danced through a garden of shadow roses.

The companionship I’d been missing over the last weeks built around me, built inside me.

A year ago—it felt like a thousand years ago—I’d trapped a sylph inside an egg and burned my hands. When they healed, the rose thorn scars I’d worn most of my life had vanished. The scars never would have healed without the sylph fire. Only the ruin had allowed new, healthy skin to grow over.

Like a phoenix bursting into flame and a rain of sparks before being reborn in its own ashes, it had taken burning up in my own misery for me to realize I didn’t need other people to believe in me before I could do something.

I had to believe in myself.

Hopefully I would see my friends again and be able to explain that.

The singing faded and sylph burned around me, happier than I’d seen them in weeks. Shadows caressed my hands and arms, and Cris said, -Thank you,- as we continued on our journey.

I’d been so lost in my own ragged emotions, I hadn’t even noticed their sadness. They’d missed the music, too.

I wouldn’t ignore them again.

The sylph led me through the woods, melting snow where they thought I might have trouble finding traction. We crept through the forest for hours, strains of melody fluttering around like butterflies or leaves in autumn. Though exhausted, I felt oddly peaceful, considering I was in a dark and unfamiliar forest with a dozen burning shadows.

Only as morning light bled through the forest did I realize I’d been walking all night. My muscles ached, and my stomach felt hollow. I gathered up a handful of fresh snow and ate it, but it only helped a little.

One of the sylph flew off to find something for me to eat, and a few minutes later I was picking scorched feathers off a pigeon. It wasn’t ideal, but a few bites too hot to taste, along with snow, helped immensely.

I was just about to sit and rest when morning reflected off white stone just through the trees.

A broken section of the wall.

I’d arrived.