Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 144277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 721(@200wpm)___ 577(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 721(@200wpm)___ 577(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
They were nothing but the spark they produced.
They were power, but not the kind one wields, just the kind of power others take.
And after each remembrance, I tell them, in my most humble and sincere up-city Spark Maiden manners, that I am sorry. Even though I don’t feel responsible, I say it anyway. If there was something else I could do to mark their lives and tell them it mattered, I would.
But this is all I have. A name and a pitiful apology.
Years pass as all this remembering, and marking, and naming, and apologizing takes place. Decades. Centuries. Eternities. But I stay. I do not even try to back away early. I process every single cherry of light and turn it into a memory. And with each memory, I give them names.
I call them every name I know. Changing letters here and there to make them unique when I run out of ideas. Brittney, instead of Britley. Harriet, instead of Haryet. Cassidy instead of Casey. Pippa instead of Piper.
And that’s enough, I think. Because after they are seen, after they are all remembered, I float back up in the air, hovering above my armada of Spark Maidens as the Godships retreat back into the nothingness. Becoming nothing but a blur of glowing blue outlines against a sea of emptiness.
Suddenly, a movement to the right catches my eye. I turn, and look, and smile. “Hayret! You’re here! I was wondering…”
But she’s not here. Not really. Not like I am. She’s just another one of them. But instead of being anchored to a Godship, she’s floating in the air like me.
At least, that’s what she appears to be at first. She has the cherry light in her head like all the rest, but she’s got another light too. It glows pink in her chest, where her heart would be.
“What’s that?” I ask. Pointing to it. I float forward in sparkmist, hovering above the sea. But the outline of Haryet shimmers, breaking apart. Becoming pieces.
“Wait!” I put up a hand and float backwards. As I move away, she pulls herself together.
“Haryet, what is happening? Why can’t I come near you? Why do you wither?”
She doesn’t answer, she doesn’t even have a face—but it is Haryet. I know it’s her. I recognize her cherry spark. It contains the memory of her life.
So I try again, floating forward, just the smallest of distances—immediately, she unravels completely. Spinning off into… strings. Unfolding before my eyes.
I gasp, floating backwards, creating distance between us. What did I do?
But again, her distorted outline reforms when I retreat. Her cherry light in place. Her heart light glowing, unlike the others, who didn’t have a heart spark.
This causes me to look down where I find my own heart spark pulsing in a steady rhythm inside my chest, as if counting something or ticking off time.
Why are we different? Why do we have this heart spark, when the others did not?
Then it hits me, I know her. She’s a friend. We are friends. Connected. Maybe that’s what’s different. And if Haryet is here, then maybe so is Brooke!
“Brook!” I yell. “Mabels!” I scream, combining their two names into one. “Lucy! Piper! Marlow! Imogen!”
It’s the saying of Imogen’s name out loud that clarifies things. At least a bit.
None of my Spark Maiden Sisters are here, other than Haryet, because they were all eaten by the tiny god Anneeta. Haryet and I, are the only ones who weren’t consumed by the baby god.
“So we’re different.”
Haryet’s shape glows when I say this, as if she’s confirming my realization.
“We’re different,” I say again. “Because…”
Because why? What makes us different?
“We both have heart spark?”
Haryet glows again. Pulsing with the beat of that same spark in our hearts.
“OK,” I say. Because clearly, I am here for a reason. Reasons. And I need to understand them.
First, to remember the women. That one is obvious. I don’t know what is going on with that, but it feels very important that each of them were… known. At least in death. Perhaps because they were nothing but remnants in life.
Second. This one, I’m still working out. But only two of us—Haryet and me—have heart sparks. This too, is important. Why are we different?
Well, it’s kind of obvious. “We’re from Tau City,” I say, aiming these words at the remnant of Haryet.
She glows, but not brightly.
“I’m wrong. Half wrong,” I realize. My brow furrowing in confusion. It’s true, we are, but that’s not what the heart spark is about.
A new idea forms. There is something else that only Haryet and I have done—and lived through. Sort of. “We walked through the door.” And that armada of faceless women, they never did. Because they weren’t Extracted, they were harvested.
Haryet lights up so bright, I have to shield my eyes. “OK!” I get excited. “Yay! I figured something out. We both walked through the door, which means, we both… crossed dimensions!”