Page 147 of The Surviving Sky
The vortex collapsed.
The Moment winked out.
The Etherium cleared.
Ahilya and Iravan floated down to the grass, like two leaves swirling.
52
AHILYA
She had not been asleep, yet Ahilya stirred into what could only be described as wakefulness.
She blinked, and green filled her vision. She was lying on dewy grass.
Slowly, Ahilya sat up. A stream of clear water sluiced past her, gurgling and rushing to disappear behind a thick red beech. Ahilya stretched toward it and caught a glimpse of herself.
She had thought she had burned in the vortex, but her skin was still the exact shade it had been. Her eyes were the same brown, thick lashes framing them. Her eyebrows arched slightly, sardonic, in this examination of herself. Ahilya’s long black hair rippled to her waist, windswept, undone. The satchel was still strapped around her shoulder, and the normalcy of the bag took her aback, as though the events in the vortex had been a dream, occurring in a different reality. Ahilya blinked, and cupped her hands to taste the water; it was sweet like nectar. She drank thirstily; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d drunk water.
When she’d had her fill, she glanced around her. She was in a garden, wild yet deliberate. It birthed in front of her eyes, but not in the riotous manner of the jungle after an earthrage. Every branch that grew on a tree was careful. Every tendril that tied itself to another seemed designed. Wildflowers bloomed in a profusion of colors, yet the colors were coordinated, pinks merging with lilacs, blues contrasting with golds.
Through the whispering of the foliage vibrated amelody—no,a raga. It grew in her heart, like life springing. A stirring rippled in her belly, flowed through her limbs, tingled in her fingers and toes. For a very long time, Ahilya remained still, letting the sounds wash over her.
Finally, she arose and turned her gaze away from the garden to look behind her.
And she saw him.
Iravan.
He sat less than twenty feet away on the highest steps of a grassy staircase. His thick hair was ruffled, his kurta rumpled and tattered. He had rolled up his sleevesagain—whatwas left ofthem—andhe stared at his bare arms, at the blue-green patterns that grew on his skin like restless vines. The falcon-yaksha lay curled behind him on the stair’s landing, its head tucked under one of its massive silvery wings. Behind them, moss-covered rock opened into a jagged window. Thick tree trunks stood past the window, leaves waving gently in the breeze.
Ahilya took a step forward.
Iravan looked up.
His eyes shone with blue-green light, obscuring the white sclera, overtaking his once-black irises. He stared at her with that unearthly gaze, the angles of his face as though hewn out of the very rock he sat on.
Iravan had never looked as wild nor as majestic. He stared at her a long moment, and she paused, stared back, uncertain of her welcome.
His face broke into a smile.
“Ahilya,” he said, and it washisvoice, no matter how different he looked.
He made to stand up, but Ahilya ran up the stairs. She stopped as she neared him, and he shifted to make space. Ahilya sat down beside him.
For a while, they just looked at each other. Closer, she could see the patterns of his skin weren’t mere vines. Spirals twined over him, reached up to his neck, glimmered lightly on his face.
“I’m building,” Iravan said simply.
He waved a hand around them. Arches and pillars grew out of the bark, solidifying. Curtains of vines crept down from the ceiling, braiding to create veils and shady nooks. On the grassy floor, pathways ran between the wildflowers, as though the place were anticipating a large party of people and was intent on giving them a warm welcome.
Ahilya turned back to Iravan. He hadn’t looked away to the garden. His unearthly eyes rested on hers, yet despite that formidable gaze, he seemed nervous.
“Your eyes,” she said.
“Ithink—”he said, raising a hand to his face. “I think it’ll fade. But it’s toosoon…since the union.”
“The union,” she repeated. “Between you and the falcon?”
