Then, he put his father’s bones in a sack and dragged it into the damp thickness of the trees, the weight too heavy for him to fly. He didn’t know how long he walked and dragged. A long time. Sometimes he rested. But finally he reached the small coral-reef encircled lagoon that jutted off the main atoll, like a twin that hadn’t quite formed properly.
Unlike their lagoon, he wasn’t allowed to play in this one. His father had told him there was a volcano under the surface, its crater deep. That volcano, it did something to the water, made it burn Jason’s eyes the one time he’d become curious and come to explore.
Heartbeat pounding against his ribs with the effort, he rose into the air and flew to the center of the bad lagoon and dropped the sack into its dark heart, watching as the sack sank below the surface and into the maw of the hidden volcano. As the lagoon ate up his father, and though Jason wanted to hate him, hate him, hate him, his heart hurt.
He remembered how his father had taught him about coral, about sea creatures, about how to work with wood to build instruments that made haunting music, and his eyes blurred until he couldn’t see anymore and he knew he had to get away before he fell into the bad lagoon. Straining his body, he flew up into the air and away, going as far as his tired muscles and heavy wings could take him before he stopped, looked around.
Their atoll was a ring of emerald green that circled a shimmering lagoon. He couldn’t fly around it in one day yet, but he planned to when he was bigger. His mother had said she’d go with him, show him all the secret places she’d found, but now she wasn’t here.
There was no one else.
He was all alone.
* * *
Mahiya’s heart had broken a thousand times over as she listened to Jason’s story, as she thought of that small boy so alone and scared and sad. Yet she also knew that the man in front of her was not that boy, had not been that boy for hundreds of years. She couldn’t wipe away his pain and tell him everything would be all right.
Jason had learned too well that sometimes nothing could fix what was broken.
It wasn’t a conscious thought to walk toward him. It just seemed right. Just as it seemed right to slide her arms around his torso and lay her cheek on his chest.
Sometimes, touch could say far more than any words. So she just held him and felt fresh tears prick her eyes as his arms came around her, tucking her close. Her hands were under his wings, his over hers, and it seemed as if this was how they had always gone into an embrace, how they would go into an embrace a thousand years from now.
“My father,” Jason murmured, his cheek against her temple, “was a man of incredible talent fueled by a wildly passionate nature. His Nene meant more to him than anything and anyone else in existence.”
Black wings came around her, a midnight caress. “Perhaps his passionate attachment to my mother might have been tempered had they been allowed to live in peace in the world, or perhaps the darkness was the price he paid for his talent, but he loved her until it became an obsession, until one by one, he drove off all their friends with his jealousy. Even the women were not welcome—he believed they sought to lure her away with their tales of the Refuge.”
Leaving, Mahiya thought, woman and child alone with a man whose love had become a noose. “Your mother—” She cut herself off, realizing too late the question would cause him horrible pain.
But he knew what she had left unspoken. “She went against her family’s wishes in accepting his suit, but it wasn’t pride that kept her from taking me and returning to the Refuge. It was love.” His arms tightened around her. “Even when his jealousy escalated to the point where he imagined she had a secret lover, one who visited her during the rare times when he flew to a nearby island to harvest fruit. Even when he began to hurt her in ways that left no bruises but the ones in her eyes.”
Mahiya wanted to rage against his mother, to shake her. How could she have not protected her son from such horror? Yet, even as she screamed silently at the pain that had forged the man in her arms, she knew emotions were nothing so simple.
Neha’s continuing love for Eris was only one example.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and the words held all her sorrow, her rage.
Jason’s response was a stroke of his hand down her back, his heart beating strong and steady under her cheek, his body a furnace, his strength so inexorable she should’ve been terrified. But this was Jason, who would never hurt her. She’d known that deep within even before he told her of a past that made her understand why he helped “broken birds.”
A lance of pain, but even stronger was her need to bring Jason back from the horror, to remind him that the world was not just a creation of pain and suffering and loss. Pulling back enough that she could look into his eyes, she thought of everything he’d told her, picked out a hidden wonder.
“Do you know how to swim?” she asked into the silence, the night quiet around them but for the clicking sound that announced the presence of an inquisitive little lizard before it flicked its jewel green body and disappeared into a crevice in the temple wall. “You said you played in the lagoon.”
The question startled Jason. He’d expected the woman in his arms to ask him for the details of how he’d finally reached the Refuge, but this subject was a welcome diversion from the memories. “Like a fish. I’ll teach you if you like.” All angels could float, their wings buoyant. However, that buoyancy made athletic swimming, particularly deep dives, difficult. Jason’s parents had taught him tricks to negate the effect, at least for short periods of time.