stood tall, looking as well-fed and ruddy as ever. He walked to one of the thrones, in which I could see Williome sitting, hair now thin and grey. Caige said some words to him, at which Williome nodded, hesitantly. Then he kissed him on the lips and stood back.
He glanced left and nodded at Benedikt, who passed his hand over a section of the slab. In an instant, the figures in the thrones gave a jolt and straightened, throwing back their heads and stretching their limbs in painful angles. Beams of coloured light streamed from each throne and seemed to wrap around the others, spiralling in every hue until they combined into a single unbroken white pole. This disappeared into a fine mist, like rain, but falling upwards.
‘They’re transcending,’ you said, following the mist into the darkening sky.
As you spoke the light faded, and the figures in the bank of thrones from which it had streamed fell back with limp limbs and lolling heads. After another nod from Caige, Benedikt passed his hand over a different section of the slab and twenty holes appeared in the floor before the thrones. The thrones themselves then seemed to flatten out, releasing the figures and letting them slip through the holes, where they tumbled and crashed into the sea below. A huge wave heaved over and dragged them beneath.
The holes closed and the thrones resumed their natural shape. The twenty remaining figures cast off their robes, and each one took a seat.
‘They are the last,’ I said.
But you had already darted away.
I FOLLOWED YOU across the small valley that separated us from the stone circle. You were away ahead of me, lean, fearless and sleek, like a panther in long grass. I had no inkling of your intentions, and as I crept behind I felt the same thing I had always felt whenever I watched you embark upon a new enterprise, like your first steps—pride, hope and gut-wrenching terror.
You leaped over the stone rim and the lanterns instantly swivelled, training themselves upon you. Caige sat in the centre. When he saw you he screeched, and the lanterns primed for attack.
‘Caige, no,’ said my mother, as I joined you. Her voice was as old and cracked as her cheeks. Caige screeched another order and the lanterns withdrew. We stood together, you and I, before the nineteen stone seats that held people we no longer recognised. Zadie sat beside Lukas, and my mother’s place was next to Caige. There was an empty seat to her right. Her eyes had turned milky and cold.
Benedikt’s eyes were clear, however, and I caught his urgent look.
You’re not supposed to be here, they said.
‘Ima,’ said Caige. ‘I trust you have finally seen reason?’
You went to speak, but I got there first.
‘You killed them,’ I said. ‘You’re murderers. All of you.’
My mother looked back, jaw working as if chewing gristle.
‘We gave them warning,’ said Caige. ‘They knew perfectly well what was going to happen.’
‘That was not your warning to give. They wanted to remain.’
Caige rolled his pale eyes.
‘I feel like we’re going round in circles, Ima. No footprint—’ he slammed his palm upon its armrest ‘—that was the agreement. A clean break, with nothing left behind but our bodies.’ He looked down at his feet, huge fingers gripping stone. ‘In a few short minutes our lifeless husks will fall through these holes, and we will depart with the rest into a better existence. Once Benedikt has joined us, all this will be destroyed by the lanterns before they themselves self-destruct, and everyone will finally be free.’ He looked up, casting his hand at the empty seat beside my mother. ‘Now join us, Ima. Take your seat beside your mother.’
She stared back at me, jaw still working at nothing.
‘That is not why I am here, Caige,’ I said.
‘Then why are you here, I wonder?’ He turned to you with a greasy smile. ‘The boy, I suppose. Has he come to beg for his life?’
I went to speak, but this time you stepped in front of me.
‘No,’ you said. ‘I’m here to explain something to you.’
Your voice was deep and clear. Caige’s smile fell.
‘Explain?’ he said ‘To me? You’re just as arrogant and stubborn as they were. But then that’s not your fault, I suppose. You understand nothing of this, or the places we’re going, or the things we will witness. You don’t even understand your own self.’ He leaned forward, squashing his bulbous belly, and rasped. ‘The only thing you understand