Part of Kiethara wanted to recoil from such contact. It made her feel so weak and vulnerable, a feeling she had never felt before. She was always the one who did the protecting.
But the other part of her could not let go. It was too busy rejoicing.
It was not rejoicing joyfully, but bitterly. She was so relieved to find that she was not alone. Things were still bad—but not the worst. Aaron had been almost everything; his departure had taken so much. A massive black hole, left by his absence, seemed to consume her as it dragged her in.
Navadar was the cliff she was clinging to with all her might.
He was her rock, the grip that kept her from falling into pieces. Well, into any more pieces. Some pieces would never be retrieved. Aaron’s death had shaken her too hard, had broken too much. But Navadar was stable.
Again, time seemed to slip away from her. As she soaked Navadar’s clothes, the same clothes he had been wearing when he left, the forest began to darken by minute degrees. The sun was still not visible through the massive blanket of clouds, but the sky was turning from gray to black. She was surprised to find the day was almost over. But then she asked herself…had it really been just this morning when Aaron had left her? Time was playing with her as it galloped towards the inevitable and dragged itself along at an almost painful rate.
But the passing time began to truly mean something to her. Her sobbing began to quiet, her tears began to relent…it was as if she was reentering reality. It was not the same world she was used to, now that it was missing something so important. She was at least able to think, to rein some control over herself.
Above her, it finally stopped raining.
Aaron’s words resounding through her head, sending stabbing pangs through her heart. He had warned her that this was possible. She could create storms and goodness knows what else. Now that common sense returned, she felt ashamed for such foolishness. What if she had set the forest on fire…again?
Kiethara took a deep, shaky breath as her tears finally stopped.
She raised her head off Navadar’s shoulder slowly, her body still shaking, pushing her hair out of her face. She was afraid to look him in the eyes…What would he think, now that he had seen her so broken? So weak?
She looked up. His handsome green eyes were anxious as they met hers, worried lines etched into his forehead. She did not know what to do. On one hand, she wanted to tell him there was no need to worry, that he need not be anxious. But she couldn’t. The words would not come and, frankly, she did not feel like lying to him anyway.
Things, certainly, were not fine. There was every reason to worry.
“I…”she began, but her voice was hoarse. She cleared her throat and began again. “I…”
Kiethara trailed off, unsure how to continue. How could she explain why he found her in such a state? She did not want to utter the reason aloud—it made it final. Absolute.
Navadar ran a thumb over her cheek. It was still wet. He seemed at a loss for words, too.
Kiethara looked away. She looked over the gloomy sight before her: the still lake, reflecting the oppressing clouds above, with patches of yellow grass staining the emerald sea…had she done that? She must have. She bit her lip, fighting back a wave of torture that threatened to bring back the endless tears.
“I don’t know what happened,” Navadar began slowly. “But if I can do anything, tell me. I can’t bear to see you like this. I…can help.”
His voice wavered towards the end, cracking under some intense emotion. Her face twisted in pain as she realized she was hurting him, too.
If anything, she had to be strong for him. If there was any reason to pull herself out of the mud and face her problems, it was to keep Navadar from any pain. He had already done so much for her. She looked up at him and tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t quite respond.
She placed a hand on his cheek. “You’ve already done so much.”
He placed a hand on top of hers. It felt nice, warm.
Reassuring.
She had to tell him. She could see the curiosity burning behind his eyes; feel the effort he was putting forth not to ask.
“Aaron”—her voice cracked horribly on the name, unnaturally high—“is gone.”
At first, his expression was one of confusion and bewilderment.
“Gone?” he asked.
Kiethara took another deep breath, focusing on nothing else but keeping herself in control. She swallowed against the lump in her throat, eyes stinging fiercely.
How could she answer that question? Tell him that Aaron was dead? That would only confuse him more, she was sure of it. She did not think she had it in her to explain to him the complex works of a guardian’s death. She did not want to.
They were her secrets, secrets that concerned only the guardians. Although she had forgiven her mother, Kiethara could not deny the irreparable harm Earthaphoria had caused by telling Gandador almost everything. She would not make the same mistake. Navadar would only be better off if he knew as little as possible, anyway.
“His spirit is gone. Faded,” she whispered, her chest heaving. “He has passed on, forever.”
She heard Navadar inhale sharply, but she did not turn towards him to see the comprehension light across her face.
He took his hands and placed them on either side of her face, turning it towards him. She did not lift her eyes to meet his. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to be comforted by him. She had never made herself this vulnerable before.
But Kiethara could not keep her eyes downcast for long. When she looked up, she saw exactly what she had feared to see: pity.
“I’m so sorry, Kiethara,” he murmured. “He was like a father to you, wasn’t he?”
She nodded, unwilling to answer. Her lips were pressed together as she fought back a sob.
“Listen, I don’t know your pain,” he said. “I wouldn’t’ dare pretend to understand what you’re going through. But I’m here to help, I promise. You’re not alone.”
That did it. Tears pooled out of her eyes and slid off her cheeks. Those, surprisingly, were the perfect words. She buried her face in his chest.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
They were silent for a while. Kiethara tried to control her weeping as the thunder rumbled anxiously above them. She needed to focus, to think clearly, to distract herself…then something occurred to her.
“How…” she began, and then swallowed noisily. “I mean, how did you know that…you came back…”
He smiled sadly as he stroked her face.
“I saw the storm.”