Half World (22 page)

“Mother,” Melanie whispered.

The giant backed away from them, and with the grinding of a great millstone, a crescent cracked the cliff wall and slowly widened into a circle.

MELANIE'S HEART QUIETED
into a small dark knot. It was a dense and hibernating seed. She would keep it so. It felt much better this way. She did not say anything further, but lowered her head and stepped through the hole in the mountain wall with Baby G warm inside her arms.

Her back leg, then foot, passed through the portal, and she left Half World behind.

A sound that was not sound, a motion that could not be felt, like silent waves, expanding outward in ever-widening rings. Like the biggest, largest, thickest bell tolling in a night sky, the sound so low, so deep it could not be discerned by human ears, the Realms rang with such immeasurable force Melanie felt like she would blow apart into atoms.

“Oh!” Melanie heard her parents gasp as if from a great distance.

Something was happening! Had the Gatekeeper turned on them?

Sudden fear filled Melanie's heart. She had not thought about how her parents would cross back to the other side of the abyss. . . .

She did not want to look, to have to witness her parents' final suffering. But she could not stop herself.

On the other side of the portal her mother and father stood, staring down at their own arms, eyes widened.

Not with fear, but wonder . . .

Their black-and-white bodies—their Half Life flesh—were beginning to glow from within. Seams and cracks of light appeared in their exposed skin, her mother glowing dark red, her father a cool lavender. Melanie, terrified, stared at their faces for signs of pain. But only wonder filled their faces, and deep contentment. As if they were in the most warm and comforting bath, when they had gone their entire lives without.

“Ohhhh,” they sighed. They turned to look upon their daughter, profound gratitude, awe, respect emanating from their faces.

“It is done,” Fumiko sighed. Red tears of light streamed from her eyes, as dark and rich as glowing embers. “My darling girl. You have done it.”

Fumiko and Shinobu closed their eyes, and the matter of their bodies broke apart into a thousand motes of red and lavender light.

“Ah!” Melanie gasped.

The motes of light hovered in human shape for several seconds before they began to flutter like a shower of cherry blossom petals falling from a tree. But instead of falling to the ground they shimmered and fluttered upward.

Time had slowed. Perhaps it had stopped. But suddenly the portal began to close with a millstone grinding.

Tears streamed down Melanie's cheeks. She stretched out one hand imploringly.

The crescent of the portal was waning.

Suddenly, several motes of her mother's dark red light flew away from the cluster that continued to rise upward. They flew apart then spiraled together to form a single larger ball of light. The dark red
hinotama
, her mother's soul, no larger than a chickadee, darted through the last sliver of the portal before it closed. With a great groan the entrance to Half World was lost.

The red light zipped and darted in the sudden grayness. It spun dizzy circles around Melanie, shot straight up, and plunged down into Melanie's arms.

It seemed to splash into Baby G.

The light disappeared.

Melanie was numb.

Why hadn't that part of her mum gone into her? Why did she choose the baby?

It was done. That was what her mother had said.

Melanie felt a thousand years old.

Everything was gray. A mist, a fog, wherever it was, it was less a world than Half World. It wouldn't even count as an eighth, Melanie thought. She was so exhausted. Of everything. There was a baby in her arms and it was growing heavy. It would be so nice to just lay it down on the ground.

Somehow, she kept on walking in the dense gray mist.

She had come upon a faint and narrow path. Her feet followed the whispery trail that faded in and out of existence. Her footsteps made no sound. She was uncertain why she followed the incomplete path, but there didn't seem to be much else to do. She looked up once, but everything lay shrouded with a heavy mist that was neither wet nor cold. She lowered her eyes. She felt mildly uneasy.

She had forgotten something, but she couldn't recall what it was. The girl felt a small ache in her chest. She glanced down and saw that she carried a sleeping infant whose hands were clasped over his belly. How peculiar, she thought. I'm carrying a baby.

She continued walking. On the path to every nowhere.

She remembered nothing.

She could have been walking for hours. She could have been walking for decades. Only the mild uneasiness inside her chest. Just placing one foot in front of the other.

Something rippled.

Like circular waves expanding outward, the small movement lapped at the girl's body and her consciousness clutched at the change. Laboriously, she slowed her legs' thoughtless motion and ground to a standstill. The path seemed to tug at her spirit, an aching compulsion to continue. She pressed her palm, hard, against her heavy chest. She should just keep walking like the path wanted her to. . . .

The something rippled through the fog once more.

Someone was calling.

She turned around, heavily, as if she were deep underwater, and pain pierced her to the core.

The voice. So familiar. So far away. She could not say where she had heard it before.

In the great noncolor of the mist, Melanie thought she saw a tiny flicker of dark red light. It did not seem to draw much closer. It bobbed rapidly back and forth, as if struggling against a strong current.

The voice was tinny, as if coming through an old-fashioned radio. Melanie's numb thoughts began to thaw. Curiosity threaded through her consciousness and she began to wonder. Was someone back there, holding a candle?

A second flame flickered beside the first. A cool lavender orb. Then a third and a fourth.

Several voices called, and the sound drew tears to her eyes. Straining with the last of her strength, Melanie took one faltering step toward the lights. Pain ripped through Melanie's chest as she resisted the path's beckoning, but the pain cleared her dulled senses.

Half World.

Her parents lost. Turned into light. Gone. Melanie left alone. With Baby G . . .

“I don't want to remember,” Melanie whispered.

Senseless. To have lost all that she had ever known—lost what had been most precious to her . . . All the struggle and heartache, all for nothing. At least nothing left for her . . .

And where was she now? Dead or alive. Or something else. Where did the path lead?

She wanted to lie down and sleep for a long time. She was tired of running from danger. She was tired of heartbreak. She was just tired.

The fog billowed encouragingly around her ankles. It crept up her thighs, leaching the last reservoirs of self-will she had remaining.

Come back!
The voices called again, thin and faded.
We can't reach you on our own. You have to meet us halfway!

Melanie wanted so much to close her eyes.

Why should she bother going back to her world after all that had happened? There was nothing to return to.

What if there is? A tiny voice inside her asked. What if there might be?

Melanie teetered on the cusp.

Let go, the fog invited. It lapped around her knees, swirled gently around her torso, its numbing touch ever so slightly soft and so blessedly muffling. Forget everything, the fog said seductively, and you'll finally find peace.

Peace, Melanie thought dreamily. Peace would be very sweet.

As if sensing her capitulation the fog swelled almost gleefully, clasping, clutching at her limbs, engulfing her. Creeping toward her face.

Melanie!
the voices called urgently. They sounded far more distant than they had before. She opened her eyes, and the tiny lights seemed like fragile candles burning in a stormy night. Forget, the fog seemed to whisper. Sending gentle tendrils toward her face. Peace forever.

There was a flutter in her arms. The baby was gazing up at her with large dark eyes. He fluttered his feet once more.

Dead meant no longer alive in the world she'd been born into. The world she had been trying so desperately to return to with her parents.

Half World hadn't offered peace for anyone she'd seen there. And who knew what the Spirits did in their Realm?

To have lost all that she had known and loved so dearly . . . was there life, still, after that?

A tiny flame flickered inside her.

Yes, it said. Yes.

Melanie tried to raise one foot, to take a step toward the voices that called. They sounded familiar. She wanted to know who they were.

The fog writhed wildly, almost hissing as it tried to bind her. Melanie bore down hard, slogging through the thick tendrils. They clung to her arms and legs, and she forced her way through them as if tearing away from vines. She groaned at the weight, the numbing spell the fog tried to weave, but she took another step and inched a little closer to the voices that had called her name.

The weighty fog focused upon her neck. It clenched and squeezed, pulling her back to the place of despair and exhaustion it had wrought.

Melanie dug in, and reached deep inside herself. To that small, hidden place where she was so completely Melanie there was room for nothing else. Where she was as hard as carbon and more brilliant than a diamond.

The fog squealed and screamed as it tried to pour into her nostrils, ears, and mouth. Melanie refused. She clung to herself and believed. Hope swelled inside her chest and broke free, streaming from her body in bright rays of light.

The fog gibbered away, and in its wake Melanie found herself standing on loamy ground. It was slightly spongy, and the smell of peat and soil was richly brown. Although she could see, she could not pinpoint a source of light. It was as if she were in and among light though nothing shone.

Four orbs of fire, the size of two cupped palms, zigzagged and swirled toward her. Ember red, pale lavender, dark green, and seashell pink, the
hinotama
were warm as breath, cool as an evening breeze. They danced around Melanie's head, swooping in to rain light kisses upon her upturned face, and she was suffused with sweet happiness.

MELANIE, A VOICE
said wonderingly. Proudly.
You did it.

Melanie blinked back a sudden surge of tears. “Mother?” she asked. “Is that you?”

Yes
, the Spirit answered.

And Melanie realized she wasn't exactly hearing the words. She could sense them, and the memory of the voice followed.

The Realms are reunited. The binding has been broken!
a childish voice bubbled excitedly. She sounded familiar.

Melanie blinked with growing joy. “Are you the starfish-child?”

The pink light spun in dizzy circles, flying figure eights with joyful glee.
Yes! Yes! Yes! I'm free!

Oh, Melanie,
Shinobu's voice murmured.
You saved us all.

We, so long trapped in Half World, have become Spirits.
The dark green light hovered in front of Melanie's face.

“Gao Zhen Xi,” Melanie sighed. “You, too.”

Yes,
her familiar voice said warmly.
I thank you with all my Spirit. You are a wonder.

“I don't know,” Melanie said in a small voice. “What's going to happen to me? Am I dead?”

No,
Fumiko's Spirit said firmly.
You have not lived out your life's path.

“Can't I stay with you?” Melanie whispered.

Oh, Melanie
, Fumiko's Spirit sighed.
I know it's hard to live. If I could but return with you to the Realm of Flesh. But if I did it would undo all that you have done to reunite the divided Realms. There is balance in the Realms once more. But this balance has been reached while you have suffered loss. Believe that you have a life still waiting for you in the Realm of Flesh and with that life all that is possible and yet to be. I know you'll find joy again. You brought joy to so many. The Realm of Spirits has been filled with the light of those who've been trapped in Half World for too long. Joy will come back to you.

“Can you promise me?” Melanie asked.

The four
hinotama
pulled back simultaneously. They hovered before her, minute variations to their light. Dark green flames, flickers of seashell pink, threads of pale lilac inside a lavender fire, and the dark, warm depth of red in her mother's Spirit.

There are never guarantees in life,
Gao Zhen Xi's Spirit said sternly. Her “voice” softened.
But for those who strive, who dream and believe, live with an open heart, and dare to love, it is almost certain that joy will come to you.

“That's a lot to ask, to live like that. I don't know if I can anymore. I don't know if I want to.” A shiver crawled up Melanie's spine. She could feel the oppressive weight of the fog waiting for her to despair.

It is for you to choose what you will do with your life. Rest, if you are weary. Hide, when it is prudent to do so. But try to live it fully. Live as you are meant to live!
Her mother's Spirit was jubilant.
Darling girl! What you have done! Know that the actions of one girl can change everything!

A shiver of wind. Like leaves rustling. The scent of green and growing things. The
hinotama
floated upward, like ashes above a fire. Melanie did not know if they were rising high above her or if they were simply shrinking. Baby G raised a pudgy hand as if to bat at the beautiful glowing lights. Suddenly, they arced across the sky like shooting stars.