Page 102 of Anathema Codex

I tilt my face toward the sky and let out a gentle sigh as the warmth washes over me. It has nothing on her touch, but I can’t compare the two. Now that I know Willa is in the light, I understand that she’s the warmth I feel on my skin.

That’s the comfort that has kept me from leaving. On the very first night that I cried about it, The Daughter explained it all to me. She promised me that it’s Willa’s light that shines down on me during the day and in the reflection of the moon on the windows at night.

The prickle I feel on my arms when the hair stands up is a gift. It’s her sign to let me know that she’s with me and always will be.

I glance down at my wrist, looking at the hair tie that means the world to me, and I know that if I ever lose the feeling and knowledge bestowed upon me by The Daughter, I’ll still always have a piece of Willa that no one will be able to take away. A permanent connection to my best friend.

But I take solace in knowing the truth that The Daughter has shown to me in ways that I’ll never be able to fully appreciate.

The truth that Willa is everywhere, in everything, andthatis the only truth I’ll ever need to believe.

* * *

“I’m still in awe of how long it’s been, Lakyn,” The Daughter says to me as I sit at the head of her table. Sun Wolf sets a plate of breakfast in front of me while Luminescence does the same with her.

They smile at us, ask us if there’s anything else we’ll need, and she waves them away, returning the joy plastered on their faces. When I first saw those smiles, I thought they were fake, or that the people here were fools, but now I know better. When I look at The Daughter, I want to smile too. There’s something about her that just makes people happier. And it’s true for me too… except when she calls me byhisname.

I let out a sigh and rub the back of my neck uneasily. For the two weeks that I’ve been here, I’ve done my best to convince her that I’mnotLakyn, but it seems lost on her. The words never quite penetrate, or they’re just unimportant to her when compared to everything else she thinks about as The Daughter of the Light—but for once I’d like to hear her use my actual name.

“Tell me, how did you find me?” she asks. “You mentioned something about a woman back home?”

I wait patiently as she raises a flat piece of boiled cactus to her mouth and takes a dainty bite. I haven’t gotten used to eating this yet, and I’m not sure if I ever will, but until they have their semi-annual roadside bead sale, it’s apparently all we’ve got. Except for the beans. That’s something they can grow easily in the greenhouse, but when I bite into one, it’s hard. I don’t want to insult her, or her followers that cooked the meal, so I just grind my teeth down and hope it breaks soon enough.

“Daughter,” I begin as I try desperately to swallow down the rock I’m working on grinding down. “I’m not Lakyn. I’m Aftyn, his son.”

“I remember your sense of humor,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. “I love that you never lost that part about you that shines so brightly.”

Right.I blow out my breath as I reach for my knife and fork, severing a piece of the cactus as best as I can. I don’t want to insult her. Not after what we’ve shared here so far. She’s been amazing to me and has loved me in ways that no one ever has before—body and soul—which is just one more reason why I really want to hear my name on her perfect lips.

“You’ve never met me before,” I insist, keeping my voice soft and calm. “I wouldn’t lie to you… I-I love you.”

The Daughter’s smile widens. “And I love you as I love all of my children.”

I raise an eyebrow.

I would have thought that after spending almost every night in her bed, I would have meant more to her than the rest of her ‘children,’ but I guess I’ll just have to try harder.

“Daughter, please listen to me. I swear to you that I’m not Lakyn Meyer. My name is Aftyn Meyer, my best friend is Willa Banks, and her other best friend was Dexter Holland. We got into a car from New York to drive to Arizona because I… well, I was goaded by someone to go meet Lakyn. It was his, um… boyfriend, I think, but he won’t admit it. His name is Ichabod.”

As she takes in what I’ve said to her, she leans back in her chair, eyes closed, hands resting delicately on the wooden arms. At this point, I don’t think she even fucking heard me.

“Ichabod… Mr. Meyer said that name to me, but I don’t recall ever having met someone by that title. Is he a Weaver of Light that needs to find his way to us?”

I don’t want to get frustrated with her, however, I can feel my nerves starting to fray.

Taking a deep breath, I decide it’s best to finish breakfast in silence, and we almost do until a few moments later, she gasps so loudly that it startles me and several others nearby.

“Are you okay?” I ask, glancing over at her.

“You’re… you’re not Lakyn.” Her tone is almost accusing, as if I’ve been trying to hide the fact from her and for the first time since ending up on the Holy Grounds, I feel hurt.

“Right,” I mumble, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. I don’t know what I just said to make her realize that, but I wish I had said it sooner.

“But if you’re not him, then who are you?” Her brow furrows in confusion, and her eyes that are normally so bright with wisdom are now clouded in suspicion. I feel like a traitor in a foreign land and that’s usually accompanied by an execution.

How many languages do I have to say this in? Do they have their own?

“I’m the son of Lakyn Meyer. My name is Aftyn.”

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