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The weight of the Mother’s soul soars out of me as I surge into the air, free of the burden. My entire being turns inward until there is nothing left but the burning pinpoint that is the heart of the bird I have become. The Goodson cries as I take flight, a dazzling thing, alive and vivid in a colorless world.
I know what I am now.
My new eyes see what my human eyes could not: Tavik’s soul buried within the flesh and bone of his own heavy body, a pulse made of laughter and pain and love, all the things he is.
I fly to him, landing on his still and cooling chest, and call to him in my birdsong. He comes to me, rising from the shell of his body to the place where I perch on the handprint over his heart. I take the light of his soul in my tiny grip, holding the luminescent threads of his colorful life in toes as thin and delicate as the strands of melted glass, and I lift him up.
All around us, the world wakes in the Mother’s footsteps, and as I fly towards the window that the Father has opened up for Tavik and I, a voice calls out to me.
“ Kristorna. ”
It is the voice I have heard ever since I left the Convent of Saint Vinnica, the essence of the metaphorical pot that used my human body as kindle: The Mother’s.
I turn in the air to face her, and her massive ethereal form is lifting out of the tree.
Instead of just seeing Zofia or my Ati floating towards me , I see her as all mothers embodied into one fantastical being; her current form constantly shifts and ripples before me, allowing me to catch glimpses of Selma, Mrs. Illes, along with women I don’t know very well, like the tall blonde woman who accompanied my mother’s brother in the village.
Somewhere below us, I hear a sound come from the Goodson, but I immediately push all thoughts of him out, unsure if my Swiftsing body would handle the emotions he has left me with. I feel the claws holding the soul of my late husband tighten, as if the Goodson was a threat while I am more thirty feet in the air.
“ And Tavik.”
She wears a smile on her face as she holds out a hand for me to perch on. I fly higher, out of instinct, as if she too were a threat to his soul.
“ Kristorna, you have done so well and have been through so much. I do not wish to extend your suffering. Rest for the moment.”
And I do. I make a lazy circle as I descend into her transparent palm. Keeping one claw on Tavik’s soul, I look up to see she is currently looking down at us with blue eyes and dark hair - another mother whom I do not recognize, but who shares the same signature of warmth as the others.
Her other hand comes up to wave over us and I chirp in alarm when I feel the claw I had on Tavik, unwillingly loosen. I start to flap my wings in panic as I watch Tavik’s soul elongate and swell beneath me. It takes me several seconds before I realize that he is not in trouble, she has only transformed from a ball of light to a more human form beside me.
“Gelya,” he breathes. His attention in unwavering on me. Nevermind he is sitting atop the hand of a goddess he has worshiped his entire life.
I hop closer to him and nuzzle my tiny head against his hand. Immediately, he lifts me in his incorporeal hands as the Mother has. My heart races, knowing soon I must fly to the sky and say goodbye until my time as a Soulswift is done.
“I just want to know how much time I have left. Is that too much to ask?”
‘Would the answer change anything?’
A pause.
‘You may have hours or days or weeks, just like anyone else.’
So this is what she had meant. I feel a warm, sickly flush of emotion now knowing what the Mother knew in that conversation only several hours ago. I will live, but Tavik… I will simply carry him to heaven ? I would want no other Soulswift to escort him, and I would happily do it, but can I trust a heaven exists? Will it be the infinite elysian fields the Ovists painted it to be? Would it be worth the heartbreak of saying goodbye?
“ You never answered my question, Kristorna.” I turn to face the Goddess, who has shifted her form once again, and communicate my question in the only way I know how: by cocking my head blue and black head to the side. “ How will you spend the life you have left? ”
That was where our conversation left off when we last spoke, but if I had lips in lieu of a beak, I would frown. I thought I had at that moment - at least to myself. I chose to live out my last moments in honesty: I showed Tavik how I felt and then, when he jokingly said I loved him later, I confessed by agreeing. We were wed by Kantar customs officially, and that was it. He is no longer in the world of the living, and I am, so what is she wanting me to answer now ?
I feel my feathers lift and know I must look as ruffled as I feel. I have almost always been unwaveringly devout, albeit a bit confused - specifically in these last few weeks - so if I am now to be a Soulswift, then I will accept it. It’s what I’ve always wanted.
Right?
A memory comes back to me, and I think back to when the Mother and I had brought the dead Soulswift back to life. How I wailed and cried for it and asked - any God or Saint who would listen and answer - if that was what I was to be.
Suddenly, I’m not so sure if I’m at peace with the idea of my winged duty. Yet another fate thrusted upon me - unless… she’s now giving me an option? I lightly grind my beak as hope from the thought fills me.
I peer up at Tavik and see he is watching me with concerned olive eyes - too pale of a green for the shade his eyes would be if he were alive. He run his fingers down my spine and the comfort takes shape like a cool breeze. I’m sure it’s all the pressure his ‘body’ can allow. “Wherever you choose for us to go, I will follow.”
And with that, I know what I dare to want - what I dare to ask for from the Mother, who is known for her life bringing qualities:
Come to me, my beloved,
My wellspring, liquid and lovely,
Water of my thirst, blood of my body,
What the mother joins in life
Cannot be separated in death.
I could form no proper lyrics, but I know the tune carries. The Mother throws her head back and laughs before waving a hand over us again. Tavik shrinks into the original ball of light he was when I had plucked him from his earthly body.
“ Meet me by the sea, Kristorna, and I will grant you the life you have always wanted.”
Tavik once told me that life came from earth, but that was one thing both of our religions had gotten wrong in his case: It came from sea foam and a rib - my rib to be exact.
When we appeared at the beach, the Goddess was waiting for us, as promised. I wish I could say the experience was painless, but it wasn’t. But if I was asked to do it again, I would not hesitate to - the Mother and Father know that.
Perhaps, that is why after Tavik and I adventured - of our own volition this time - to the Empire of Yil, Kantar, Nogarra, and the many places in between, I split myself open to bring in three more lives into our home back in Hedenskia.
Two boys and one girl.
Tavik teases me often, saying that we need one more boy to keep the world balanced, but there is never any true pressure for me to have another child.
Not until we decide we both want it.