Page 65 of Embers to Flames

The buzz of whispers begin to take shape into discernible sentences. The messages are cryptic, phrases of love lost, and battles fought, tales of betrayal intermixed with promises of redemption. They echo the very fears and hopes that lie buried within our hearts. I feel a chill as one particularly portentous whisper brushes against my ear, saying, “Beware the heart that harbors shadows.”

Theo glances at me, his expression unreadable. “Do you hear them too?” he asks quietly. I nod, trying to mask my unease.

“It’s like they know us,” I murmur, my voice barely audible, afraid to disrupt the ethereal voices. The deeper we venture into the tunnel, the more vivid and haunting they become. Each whisper seems to weave through the darkness, finding its way into my heart, tugging at buried emotions and secret fears. Theo squeezes my hand in reassurance but remains silent, his gaze fixed forward as if he can see something in the darkness I cannot.

The tunnel seems to stretch on endlessly before us. After what feels like hours, a pinprick of light appears ahead. We quicken our pace, the distant glow promising an end to this unnerving passage. As we draw nearer, the opening expands, and the whispers fade behind us until only our footfalls echo off the stone walls.

Shielding my eyes, I step out of the dark Tunnel of Whispers and into… dazzling and bright sunlight. Lush grass spreads before us, dotted with vibrant wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. Birdsong trills from the shade of the surrounding trees. After the gloom of the tunnel, the meadow is shockingly verdant and alive. I spin around, expecting to see Theo’s face filled with excitement and confusion like mine. But he is not there. I quickly scan the area for Lenna, Alyndra, or Eulee. None of them are in sight.

There is no one.

I am alone.

Chapter Thirty-Three

I stand motionless in the meadow, reality sinking in as the warm breeze tousles my hair. I am alone. The tunnel, which just moments ago was the path we all took together, now appears as a gaping void in the rockface behind me. There is no sign of my friends, no sound except for the wind fanning through the grass and a distant family of birds harmonizing in song.

Panic rises in my chest. I rush back to the tunnel entrance and peer inside. “Theo?” My voice echoes into endless darkness. “Lenna? Alyndra?” Only silence answers. I desperately search for footprints, broken stems, any sign they passed this way. But the soft loam underfoot remains undisturbed.

I slump down beside the tunnel mouth, heart pounding. What magic is this? Some illusion cast by Ruvyn to confuse me? I wrack my brain trying to understand what sinister force drew me here to stand alone. If this is a trap, why leave me unharmed in a tranquil meadow?

I am torn between appreciation of the idyllic surroundings and the growing panic swelling within me. A faint melody reaches my ears. It’s a woman’s voice, wordless and haunting, ascending and falling in pitch like the peaks and valleys of the mountain range. I turn towards the sound. At the edge of the meadow stands a small cottage, smoke drifting lazily from its stone chimney. The haunting song seems to emanate from within.

My feet slide against the dewy grass as I cautiously approach the quaint cottage. My hand trembles as I reach for the wooden door, and the melody abruptly stops. I hold my breath and give a hesitant knock, wondering who or what awaits on the other side.

For a long moment, only silence answers me. Then the door creaks ajar slightly and a pair of bright green eyes peer out from within.

I take a hesitant step back as the door swings open, revealing a cozy interior glowing with firelight. A young slender woman with bright ginger hair, much like my own, now stands in the doorway.

I stare in bewilderment at the woman before me. High cheekbones, a pointed chin, and large emerald eyes set abovea smattering of freckles. She smiles like Meemaw used to, and her nose is buttoned like mine.

“Mother?” I whisper in disbelief.

The woman’s eyes fill with tears. “Rosanhi,” she says, her voice cracking with emotions. She reaches out and pulls me into her arms. I stand frozen, unable to comprehend how this could be real. I pull back and search her face, looking for some sign of trickery. But all I see are her kind eyes and loving smile. Meemaw’s smile.

“How… how is this possible?” I ask with trembling lips as hot, salty tears spill down my cheeks. I embrace her again, breathing in a scent of lavender and feeling the warmth of her arms. Could it truly be her? Could she have somehow been returned to me by whatever magic lies within this mountain?

My mother pulls back and looks at me tenderly, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. “Oh, my dear Rosanhi. I know you must have so many questions.” Her voice is melodic and soothing. “Come, let’s go inside where we can talk properly.”

She turns and heads into the cozy cottage, beckoning for me to follow. I step over the threshold, my mind spinning. The interior is simple but homey, with a crackling fire, faded quilts, and dried bouquets hanging from the rafters. My mother sits at an old wooden table and gestures to the chair across from her. I sink down slowly, still half convinced this is some vision that will vanish in a moment.

“You’ve grown into such a strong, beautiful young woman,” she says, eyes shining with pride and sadness.

I stare at her, emotions swelling within me. “I don’t understand how you’re here. Meemaw said you died in childbirth. Your letter to her said so.”

My mother nods somberly. “It’s true, that was my earthly fate. But my spirit moved on to a realm beyond the physical world. A place not fully part of the mortal plane, yet still connected.” She reaches across the table and takes both my hands in her own. Her skin feels real and warm. “This meadow exists between realms,” she continues.

I gaze at my mother in wonder, trying to comprehend how any of this is possible.

“Between realms?” I ask. “So, you’re a… spirit?”

She nods, a sad smile on her lips. “When you entered the Tunnel of Whispers, your power of translocation allowed you to cross into this mystical place between life and death. Here, spirits like myself can take temporary form.”

“And my friends? Where are they?”

Her smile turns to an expression of concern. “Your friends did not make the same journey as you,” she says gently. “Only those born with the gift of translocation can enter this realm.”

My heart sinks, realizing I truly am alone here.

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