The Fire and the Sky (Book 3 of the... - Chapter 46: Chapter 46

The orb of energy in Em's hand extinguished with an electric fizzle. For a moment, the whole world was black — void-like in the absence of her light. May blinked hard a few times until the swaying shadows of the field's unplowed grasses came back into focus. Somewhere close by, those grasses rustled.
"Keen eye, May," Welkin's smooth voice cut through the night. Em's body went rigid, her eyes impossibly wide. "Apologies for frightening you."
"It's you," she whispered.
A few paces off the trail, Welkin stepped close enough for the couple to see their face. The Star's normally stoic expression melted at the sight of their daughter. The weak light that streamed from the farmhouse caught their golden eyes and the glaze of tears within them.
"Oh, Emanthy. How I've missed you."
Welkin extended their arms and Em did not hesitate: she darted forward, feet skimming the ground, and launched herself into their waiting embrace. Despite the many questions swirling in her head, May hung back and let the small family enjoy their tearful reunion.
"I'm so mad at you," Em said, though she didn't sound it at all. She sobbed, her arms clinging desperately around Welkin's neck. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"
"I know, and I am so terribly sorry. You must believe that I would have reached you if I could."
Em pulled back, kissing the Star's cheek as she did. Her eyes scanned them from top to bottom. "Look at you! May said you were made human but I had no idea— Welkin, you're beautiful!"
At this, Welkin laughed. It was a sound so rare that it made May jump with surprise.
"If you insist," Welkin said, glancing down at themself with thinly veiled disdain. "Though I'm not sure I see it, personally. I'm not sure how you humans get on in these bodies of yours, to be quite honest."
"Oh, Welkin." Gently, Em laid a tender hand against their cheek. "Did I do this to you?"
"No. Whatever happens to me is my fault and mine alone. I need you to understand this."
May took a tentative step forward. Feeling a little intrusive, she crammed her hands into the pockets of the motorcycle jacket she continued to wear despite it being too large and not hers. "I'm glad you changed your mind."
Welkin gave her a sad smile. Keeping one arm wrapped firmly around Em's shoulders, they reached out the other to May. Grateful, she accepted the offering, and let Welkin pull her in for a group hug.
"I've been thinking long and hard about what you and Jeremy said. I've been away too long. Just once, I need to be there for my daughter."
Em tipped her head into their shoulder, burrowing into the folds of their lowered hood. "Stop that. You've always been there for me. I'm sorry for being such an ungrateful bit—"
"Emanthy, listen to me," Welkin said, cutting her off with a sharp and urgent tone. "Both of you. I need you to hear this."
May and Em stood up straight and shot one another wary glances.
"What's wrong?" May asked.
Welkin sighed sadly. "The reason I would not come inside—the reason I did not come to you sooner, Emanthy—is because I have been forbidden from doing so. As part of the conditions of my exile, I am not to see or speak with you again."
"What?" May choked. "Welkin, why didn't you say so earlier? What are you doing?"
"What does that mean?" Em's voice rose a frantic pitch. "Are you going to get in trouble again?"
"It means my time is limited," Welkin said. Despite how dire it sounded, the Star remained composed. They smiled, a brilliant and dazzling smile, and wrapped their slender fingers around the back of Em's neck. Their golden eyes latched onto hers. "So, before that time is gone, I need you to hear me. Everything that has happened—the Wishes, the Loyals, this terrible and deadly thing between them—none of it is part of the Plan."
It took May a beat to realize what they were saying.
"You mean, the destiny the Stars have written? They didn't see any of this coming?"
Welkin shook their head. "Not at all. And lest you think they are unperturbed by the ramifications of the situation, you should know they have spent all these many years re-writing the Plan to account for the damages. They are dangerously stretched thin."
"Why are you telling us this?" Em asked, her brow knitted tightly in confusion. "What does that mean for us?"
"It means they're desperate. Every wish made on the star has created a ripple effect of unexpected variables to the destinies that were already carefully laid out. The Star Council does not have the capacity to keep re-writing the Plan while also spinning it into the future."
May considered this for a moment. "Are they desperate enough to finally step in and put an end to all this if it means getting the wishing star back?"
Pride flashed in Welkin's eyes. "There is no way to know how all of this will end. Just like yourselves, the future of this conflict is unwritten. If your destinies are yours to choose, I can think of no one better to write this ending than the two of you."
While this idea of taking charge of their destiny gave May a rush of purpose, Em seemed reluctant. She stared hard at Welkin, her posture rigid.
"But you'll be here to help us, right?" she asked. "We need—"
The sky flashed. For a split second, the world was lit as though it were mid-day before being plunged back into darkness. Then came a whistling from somewhere above. May squinted skyward, searching for the source of the sound and was startled to see a mass of shimmering light hurtling toward them.
Her stomach lurched — she had seen this before.
"Welkin, who is that?"
The Star moved quickly, pulling both girls into a strong embrace. "I need you to take care of each other. I love you both, and I am so proud. Don't forget that, I beg of you." They pressed a kiss into Em's forehead, and then into May's. "Now, I need you to get down in the grass. Stay low, and whatever happens, stay hidden. Do you understand?"
The atmosphere around Em swirled with the force of her fear and apprehension. Gently, her hair began to lift and her skin glowed. "Welkin, what's happening?"
But May knew what was happening. She knew what the Star was asking of them. She met their gaze and nodded. Welkin responded with an appreciative smile, then turned their back on them both.
"Welkin!" Em cried. She reached for their robes, but May caught her hand instead.
"You heard them, Emmy. We need to get down."
"But—"
May darted into the long grass, pulling Em behind her with a strength she didn't realize she possessed. Despite Em's protests, May was able to get them a decent distance into the field, and tackled Em to the earth just as the light collided with where they had been standing only moments earlier.
Again, the world flashed; it was so fast and complete that to blink would have meant missing it. But when the light imploded into itself, there was nothing to imply anything was amiss —only shadows and the sound of grass swaying in the wind.
That, and a voice.
"I knew you couldn't help yourself, Welkin."
Em looked to May with wide, questioning eyes. Neither of them recognized the melodic voice. When Em opened her mouth to say something, May clamped one hand over it and pressed a finger from the other to her own lips. Shush.
"It's lovely to see you again too, Sita."
The voice let out an irritated hiss. "You know that is not my name."
"Apologies. My human tongue isn't capable of wrapping itself around your true name, so Emandi's moniker will have to suffice. I'm sure you understand."
If May's curiosity had been piqued before, it was all but burning now. Keeping her hand pressed firmly over Em's mouth, she lifted her head just enough to peer between the tops of the grass. Between their bowing tips, she could see Welkin, tall and impassive standing face to face with a creature that may as well have been the ghost of who they used to be. Glowing a muted golden light, like a fading ember, was a figure of heartbreaking beauty. Long, delicate limbs, piercing eyes of the purest gold, and knife-sharp features — Sita was a Star.
"You know why I'm here," Sita said, ignoring Welkin's barb.
"Indeed," Welkin replied. "I disobeyed the Council's rules, yet again."
"You know what that means, do you not? I was expecting to see more resistance from you. Or has life as a human taken the fight out of you?"
A hint of a smile tugged at Welkin's lips. "I knew what I was doing."
"And what of the consequence?"
Em was struggling against May now. She knew what was happening. May dipped back into the grass to regain her grip.
"I accept the consequence," Welkin said. "Under a condition."
Sita laughed. "You are in no position to be making demands of us."
"Assure me my daughter will not come to harm from the Council."
"Your daughter," Sita cooed. "How charming. You truly do love this place, don't you?"
"Say it!" Welkin growled.
Sita clicked their tongue in annoyance. "Save your breath, Welkin. You know we have no power over the Starborn. She and the wish-gotten children may be Star-touched, but we have no domain over whether they live or die. At least not until they've been written into the Plan."
Once again, May crept up. Even from here she could see how tortured Welkin's expression had become.
"They deserve to live. They can be great."
"I suppose time will tell."
"Please." Without breaking eye contact, Welkin sank to their knees. They held out their hands, palms raised, begging. "I will go. I will not resist. Just, please, let them live."
For the first time since their arrival, Sita's stony exterior faltered. A flash of sadness crossed their gorgeous face.
"Do you truly think so little of us, Welkin?" Their voice was low and sorrowful. "We are not monsters. You know this."
"Please."
Sita sighed. They watched Welkin with pity and, perhaps, a touch of curiosity. May held her breath.
"Was all this worth it?" Sita asked. "Was it worth falling for?"
Now, it was Welkin who laughed. It was the laugh of someone blessed with fond memories and great love, and made May want to cry. Sita's head tilted, curious. Welkin brought their hands to their heart.
"Absolutely. I love them. I love them all."
Sita considered this for a moment, then gave a single, slight nod. "Very well."
It happened in an instant, faster than May's mind could comprehend. One moment Sita was standing motionless before Welkin, still kneeling at their feet. There was a light — something rapid and jagged like a lightning strike.
The next moment, Welkin was falling forward. Their hands didn't reach out to brace their fall, and so they landed in an undignified heap, face-down in the path.
Sita pressed a trembling hand to their chest, closed their sorrow-filled golden eyes, and bowed their head.
"Oh, Welkin," they murmured, barely loud enough to be heard over the grass rustling in the breeze. "If only you had loved yourself more."