While we didn’t need to go through the walls into the old town to visit where I used to live, we were still stopped by the city guard, and I verified our company affiliation.

Once we got inside, Nelys and Taava split off. We needed to report the attack on the road here to both the town guard and the Gelles Company as soon as possible.

I couldn’t go with them. Not when I was so close to my memories.

Nelys and Taava were on their way to the Gelles Company branch in Linthel, while Seyari and Joisse joined me in walking to where I once lived.

I stopped on a bridge over the Linthel river. The old stone span was the same bridge Abby and I had run across the night we’d died—although I hardly recognized it. Most of the buildings around here were different. Newer—especially on the nearer side—away from the fire.

Underneath, the early winter flow of the river murmured quietly, and icicles were starting to form on the snow-topped rocks at the water’s edge.

Will the river freeze over this year? If it does, I’d bet we could…

My “we” had included Abby, and my sister. And our parents standing on the banks watching in case we slipped.

Seyari laid a hand on my shoulder, and I realized I was crying.

“What’s—what are you thinking about?” the half angel ventured, her words unsure.

“Just… memories.” I pushed my emotions aside for just a little longer. “The river sometimes freezes over in winter, and the kids play out on the ice if it gets thick enough.”

“I’m sorry,” my fiancée said quietly.

I sniffled. “The river was just like this the night when… when…” I hiccupped.

I felt Seyari’s arms wrap around me at the waist, and her head push in between my shoulder blades. I reached back and hugged her as well, awkward for the angle but uncaring in the face of compassion.

“Thanks, Sey.” I took a deep breath. “I’ll be okay, I think.”

“I know you will,” Sey responded with a hum, “You need to face this.”

I nodded. “Right. I do. We… we should go.”

I said one thing and did another, looking out and up the river, at the snow-and-ice covered banks lined with zigzagging rows of buildings that traced upriver toward the walls of the old town. King Carvalon’s castle was up that way.

Did he suffer at all for this? Is it fair to think he should have?

“It’s a pretty view,” Joisse said softly, walking up beside me to lean on the stone half-wall I was too tall for. “I think I’d have gone out on the ice too, when I was a kid. It looks like a nice open place for a snowball fight in a crowded city.”

I nodded. “It was—is, actually. I’m sure people still come here. Still have fun. Move on.”

Joisse nodded and bit her lip, before following my gaze upriver. For a long while, we stared—as the morning rush of people behind us slowed to a trickle, and the chill wind through the river channel slowed with the approach of the noonday sun toward its zenith.

Eventually, when my heart stilled and I felt more clearly the chill air through my company uniform, I turned. “I’m ready. I think.”

Both Seyari and Joisse nodded, the latter with a smile. I returned it as best I could, and the three of us set off toward where my old neighborhood had been before the fire. With Seyari’s hand in mine and Joisse darting around us, taking in the sights of the rebuilt square across the river, I had to ignore a feeling that we looked an awful lot like a family.

A very unusual family, indeed.

 Whatever we were to each other helped more than I ever could have hoped to ease the pain of the old hole in my heart I was slowly tearing open again.

The square distracted me. I could see where new paving stones had replaced old. I could see the chips in the old, toward the edges, where debris or heat had cracked them. Few of the original buildings stood on this side of the river.

Just how bad did the fire get?

When Abby and I had vaulted the barricade and passed the bucket brigade, they’d seemed to be holding the line well before what I saw as new construction. It wasn’t by chance that I picked the same street to go down as the one from that night.

The clarity of my memories was a welcome surprise. I really am me, huh Abby? What I remembered wasn’t just of that evening, but countless other days, happy in one way and desperately sad in another, spent walking or running through these streets.

It almost hurt to think that, in a way, I was happier now. More than anything for the fact that I was allowing myself to have happiness, not holding it back until some undetermined date I knew would never come.

We passed shops and homes and crowds of people. Here in what was now the capital of a semi-autonomous kingdom within the empire, the scars of war were almost invisible.

Almost.

An old foundation co-opted with new under a recently-built building. The rare empty patch of slightly-overgrown garden showing a place where there was no-one to come back and rebuild. More damaged paving stones. All told a story.

One that I knew I would never forget.

As we drew near, Joisse could sense my anxiety just as well as Seyari. Our mood became somber, even as the happy sounds of city life in a nice neighborhood scattered about in the winter air.

I should try to focus on the happier parts of my life before I became a demon. Despite everything, the sheer absurdity of that thought almost brought a smile to my face. Almost.

I didn’t know what to expect as we turned a corner I’d nearly missed, for lack of landmarks, onto the dead-end street where our well was. Really, the street was nothing special, but almost failing to remember it hurt all the same.

I recognized only a single thing.

The old well. Same is at had always been, even its slightly off-level roof. I recognized the arrangement of mortared rocks, vague bulbous shapes that had stuck in my memory despite all logic.

But the well was the only thing I recognized. A house stood where Abby’s had been, the door on the wrong side of the front. Another was built where mine had been, their door in the right spot, but the wrong color.

The small details jumped out at me. Even in the face of the fact the buildings looked completely different, the small details got to me and I stopped right in the middle of the nearly empty street.

Gone.

It’s like I never even existed. Like my life never even…

I watched Joisse wander near the well, detached. Seyari tried to comfort me, but I couldn’t hear her words. I almost doubted I had ever had a human life. Was there ever a confused girl named Zacharias who always got in trouble because her best friend couldn’t stay out of it? Whose younger sister looked to be a prodigy at whatever she did, and her family couldn’t have been prouder.

I can’t just go knock on a door. What will I say? “Hi, I’m the demon made up of the souls of the people who died in the fire here. Your door’s the wrong color.”

“-renna, there’s a cast sign on the well!” I heard Joisse calling out to me.

A what?

After a moment I found my tongue and then my words. “What?”

“A metal sign with names on it! And a date!”

I glanced down at Seyari and her wet eyes met mine. I forced a smile and walked toward Joisse and the well she was pointing at.

Two steps in, I stopped.

Right where Joisse was standing.

That exact spot.

That was where I’d died. Where my old life had ended in fire and fury.

“Joisse…” I choked.

The other wrath demon cocked her head to one side, confused.

I forced another step, then another, fighting a phantom pain in my ankle. Instinctively, I looked in the direction Tania had fled, a garden wall there now. I half expected her to step out from behind the open garden gate, the exact same as that night: ash and tear-stained, tired, and terrified.

She didn’t. The circle of paving stones, tufts of grass, and piles of half-melted snow were quiet and empty save for us three.

I felt a wetness down my cheeks and blinked my eyes clear. “I… let’s just see that plaque.”

“Are you okay Zarenna?” Joisse asked. “Really, after all you’ve done for me if there’s anything I can do to help, you just need to say it.”

“…died,” I mumbled. “You’re standing… right where I died. Right there.”

Joisse paled, her red eyes going wide. “I… I’m sorry—I didn’t—”

“It’s… not your fault.” I answered before her emotions or mine spun out of control. I couldn’t say it was okay. I couldn’t lie to her like that.

She moved quickly away to the other side of the well, past where Inquisitor Finley had stood. Once she was away, I took a deep breath. In. And out. “Where’s the plaque?”

Joisse pointed to the spot where she’d been standing. Where I’d died. “It’s, uh, it’s on that side.”

Of course it is. How poetic.

“I’ll go read it,” Seyari volunteered.

“No!” I shouted, grabbing her arm. “I mean, we can both go. I… I don’t want any of us to stand there alone.”

Sey smiled, twisting her arm in mine, wordlessly healing the bruise my sudden grip had caused. She bent up onto the tips of her toes and I bent forward. Our lips met: a quick, chaste kiss.

And one that I needed desperately.

With wordless thanks, I followed her to the spot, my ankle nearly giving out on the last step.

“Zarenna?” Sey caught me.

“Ankle,” I replied. “It was hurt and… it gave out. Twice, actually—I made it a few more steps. Enough time for Tania to… to escape.”

That’s right. She did make it out. Someone else from here is alive. What once was here has not been forgotten. Perhaps even some of the people living here now remember what it was like before.

Seyari squeezed my hand and pulled me closer to her, to face the well. “That was brave, Zarenna. It was brave the first time you told me that night in the desert, and it’s even braver now, standing here.”

I nodded, too numb for words. Joisse walked around the well, pausing nearby before sidling up next to Seyari and me.

Seyari looked up at me, smiling sadly. “I can read it.”

I nodded, eyes too blurry to focus.

Seyari cleared her throat and read in a clear, somber voice: “In remembrance of the Great Linthel Fire of AL 1349. One hundred and three people lost their lives, and a third of the city burned. Amongst the ashes, near the center of the fire, this well alone still stood.”

I sniffed. No mention of my body found here, but why would they focus on the macabre? Instead, they could use this well, an unfortunate fixture of my nightmares, as a symbol of hope and survival.

I was mad, but I didn’t have a reason to be. Slowly, I let my anger go, vaguely aware of another, smaller presence in my mind, helping as best it could. Along with it, someone held me close. Thanks, Joisse. Thanks, Sey. Even with the anger gone, melancholy still chased me doggedly.

***

Before we’d left, and after I’d had a chance to compose myself and thank the others, I took a closer look at the sign. I traced the words with one finger, mouthing them out.

I’d also noticed the sign was carved not cast. Joisse had giggled when I corrected her, and Seyari had taken it as a sign that I was feeling myself again.

She was right. I felt one burden lifted. Whatever I’d been carrying wasn’t gone, just different.

Still, I had graves to visit. I already saw the more symbolic of places, but I wanted to place flowers anyway. Or I would have, had there been any of a reasonable size to place at this time of the year. Once we arrived at the graveyard, I almost picked a couple small winter-flowering wildflowers, but I decided against it.

I figured this was the right place: Linthel’s closest large graveyard. If my parents—and I—weren’t buried here, we’d be closer to extended relatives away from Linthel proper. Relatives I didn’t know and didn’t really want to try to meet now.

First, however, I stopped by the gravekeeper’s house to ask for directions. This place was immense, and I doubted I was in a good enough mental state to be wandering a graveyard all day.

“Miller,” I told the gravekeeper after he’d asked. “Should be a family plot—three graves.”

“Miller’s a common name,” he replied, rubbing his chin.

“Uh, Zacharias is one of the names,” I clarified hesitantly. “Zacharias Miller.”

At least both of the people with me knew exactly why that name was significant.

The gravekeeper, an older man with thin, gray hair closed his eyes before nodding. “He’s here. Up the hill, in the middle of the section reserved for victims of the fire.”

“Thank you,” I bowed my head solemnly and turned to go.

“It’s not my business to pry,” the gravekeeper said softly, “but are you family?”

“Cousin,” I answered using the idea I’d already prepared. “Distant—only met he—him once.”

“Oh, never mind then. It’s just that his sister visits yearly. Flowers and everything. Apparently, he saved her life—died a hero in my eyes.”

I blinked, feeling wetness forming again in my eyes. “T-thanks—for letting me know.”

The gravekeeper nodded and waved me off. I turned and rejoined the others, walking hurriedly away. I can’t think about this right now.

“Is everything okay?” Sey asked as we walked up the tree-dotted hill toward my… grave.

“Tania visits here every year and places flowers on my grave,” I responded quietly.

“Do you think she’ll accept who—and what—you are now?”

“I… do you?” I threw the question back at Seyari.

“That’s not my question to answer. But I believe she will. If Lorelei could give you the chance she gave you at the very end, anyone can.”

“Thanks, Sey. I… I know now that my sister knew about me being a woman without me ever telling her. I just hope she realizes that I’m still her sister, just red and with extra bits tacked on.”

“And wings too, now,” Sey added softly. “Wings of fire.”

I winced. “Sey, I’m sorry, I—"

Sey reached up and put a finger over my lips. “It’s my fault, not yours. I’m still thinking about things, love. Someday I’d like to go… flying with you again, but I don’t know when that’ll be.”

Once she removed her finger, I opened my mouth again.

“Don’t,” Sey commanded. “I’ll let you know when. Until then just… not around me okay? I don’t care if it’s selfish.”

I closed my mouth and nodded. “It is selfish, but I understand.”

One corner of Seyari’s mouth turned upward and she spun around to keep walking, taking two steps before she remembered where we were and let me take the lead.

If there’s a single way in the world to let her fly again, I’ll do it.

As we walked, Joisse looked at the different headstones we passed, silently glancing at names. I really need to teach her to read. Soon.

My anxiety grew as we reached the section where I knew my and my parents’ graves would be. The three headstones were part of a nice, neat row, all looking to be of similar age. Carved stone monuments standing silent vigil; simple dark gray slabs topped with white.

Behind and below us, I could see rooftops through the sparse trees, some capped in white and others melted off: a quiet backdrop of the unseen side of a city, or perhaps a watchful resting place from those who’d departed.

Bending down in front of the graves, I read aloud the names of my parents, stopping before each to pay my respects.

“Hi Mom; Hi Dad,” I stared down at the cold headstones. “I have so much to tell you.”

The process was solemn, respectful: more what I’d expected, instead of what I’d found by my old childhood home. I poured the highlights of what had happened to me in a voice barely above a whisper: from the island to meeting Seyari, from the deserts of Navanaea to the streets of Lockmoth.

All the while Seyari and Joisse stood next to me, silent.

When I came to my own gravestone, however, the mood changed. Anxiety. Guilt.

“Zacharias Miller. AL 1329-1349. Died in the Great Linthel Fire.”

I worried at the collar of my coat, silent for a long while in the face of the real, permanent reminder of who—what—I once was, and the divide between then and now. Under the soil where I stood, my own bones lay in quiet repose. Died in the fire? Was my body moved? The well didn’t burn…

Underneath the gravestone, there was a mound covered by a layer of the previous night’s snow. I dusted it off; it was my grave after all. Beneath the snow was a bundle of snowdrops, the small white flowers still fresh and vibrant in the winter cold.

I held the bundle in my hand, my arm shaking. Who else but Tania would…

The snow under the flowers was disturbed, so I dusted a little deeper, crystallized snow harsh to the touch. There, in the glittering white, was a waxy piece of folded parchment.

Tania. This has to be from her.

I lifted the parchment up, giving a look over my shoulder to make sure we were alone. Seyari wore an anxious expression, her lips drawn into a thin line. Beside her, Joisse tilted her head, confusion dawning into an excited smile.

I opened the folded slip. Inside was a simple message:

“Just as the solstice turns the seasons, we too must change our times.”

Our? Not “at?”

It dawned on me a moment later. Plans had changed, and I could only hope the freshness of the flowers meant I was not too late.

A tear fell on the note before I wiped my eyes and folded it again, slipping it into a pocket.

“Good words?” Seyari asked hopefully.

I nodded, sniffing again. “I hope so. There’s another trip we need to take, come evening.”

Seyari’s eyes widened. “He’s made his move then.”

Mordwell.

“Now, or soon.” I bit my lip in lieu of a horn to scratch.

We turned to leave quickly.

Joisse jogged after us. “Renna! Sey! What’s going on? Is it something dangerous?”

Most definitely, Joisse.