Labyrinth Lost: Chapter 34–Epilogue

I wonder what’s worse than roaming aimlessly without knowing you’re dead.

“It happened after you conjured the elements. You were just too”—he looks at Rishi—“preoccupied to see.”

The labyrinth walls change around me. They retract like curtains to reveal Rishi.

“It didn’t help that every time you materialized, you looked like a corpse.”

Your powers are at the Tree of Souls, but your body is still a conduit. Your body is made to hold your personal brand of magic.

You made me feel...inadequate. I couldn’t look at you without remembering my own failure.

A swollen belly marked with bites and bruises. Bony arms with sagging flesh. Its face, misshapen and contorted. Teeth covered in black and green decay.

He roams the streets all night and sleeps in the nooks and crannies of the subway, the park, the construction site of a million-dollar high-rise.

I stop at the base of the Tree of Souls and land on my knees. I feel dwarfed by its grandeur.

Its long, thick branches reach for the sky, barren of any foliage. Instead of leaves, the branches are filled with hundreds of cocoons.

She looks at me with a haughty face that tells me she’s not pleased, that there is no better place for me than this—on my knees asking for forgiveness.

One by one, the spirits of my deceased family members disappear into the ether, back to rest until the next time they’re called upon.

My heart, the treacherous, bloody mess, betrays me. It squeezes with unexpected hurt.

Inside of the Caves of Night is a small nest and on the wall hangs a set of black wings. And at night, under the cloak of stars, they tell the fledglings stories of the Thief, the Magpie, and the Bruja that destroyed the Devourer.

I bring her a sprig of lavender.

I hold her hands and find the root of her malady. I press healing waves into her skin, let them travel through her system until my mother knocks on the door.

Ever since we got back, she’s had separation anxiety. Whether it’s dropping us off at school or even going to get groceries. I fear she’s a step away from regressing to baby leashes.

“Our spare room is like a magical infirmary. My mom had to quit her receptionist job to take care of our patients. We take care of people with demonic possessions, wounds that can’t be treated by a regular doctor, and irregular births.”

Everyone sings and dances and drinks copious amounts of Lady’s rose punch because we’re alive and it’s a beautiful thing.

The house is in shambles after the party.