Epilogue:
The aerian girl sets down the pen one last time. She stares at the finished stack of pages. Of course there’s still work to be done. She needs to read over what she’s written. There will be errors to be fixed and little details to be corrected. But the work itself is finished. And yet… she doesn’t quite feel that she has said everything that needs to be said. Perhaps there is one last story, one brief tale that must be told. Picking up the pen again she reaches for just one more sheet…
The sun had just set over the northern tundra. It was early summer and the nights were short and cool, the days long, sunny, and warm. The short grass that surrounded the low hill where Flame Song Firedancer and Aidan Rhiannon made their home was blowing in a cool breeze. A young, blond aerian boy in his late teens swooped through the night and landed in front of the entryway. He hesitated for a long moment, long enough for a second aerian, a red-haired girl of about the same age, to come in and land behind him.
“Hi. You must be a relative of some kind,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Have you ever met either of… of them?” She motioned towards the house under the hill. The boy shook his head. “Me neither,” the girl said. “Though I guess my grandma knew her pretty well.”
“Do you think anyone else is coming?” asked the boy.
“No, at least not on my side of the family.”
“Mine neither. I guess we should go in then. Though I don’t know why I came. They’re generations older than us, and it’s a little bit scary too, you know… about him.”
“Yeah. But my mom knows I’m coming, and she’ll be worried if I don’t show up.”
The boy nodded in response and moved forward to knock on the age-worn door. A silver haired woman who, to all appearances, was human opened it. Probably a shape-shifter, the boy thought to himself as he entered. Inside, a fairly large room was filled with people. Most of them were fairly ordinary-looking humans and aerians, though here and there somebody had cat eyes, or fur, or some other sign of the common heritage that all in the room shared. The boy couldn’t help craning around to see if he could spot them, but there wasn’t anybody there who looked right. There was one aerian girl sort of lurking in a corner who had an odd look about her, but she was obviously not one of the famous pair.
People spoke in low voices, highly conscious of why they were here. They had come to pay their final respects to the ancient woman who was the ancestor of them all. The young aerian continued to scan the room, and at last he saw something. A door, leading to a dim room beyond, opened. Out came half a dozen people, several of whom had a particularly feline look. All were quite old as well. Those must be their grandchildren, thought the boy. But the aerian who was ushering them out looked to be no more than eighteen or twenty. His hair was jet black, his skin unlined. He wore a black iron torc set with a red stone and a dark amulet with a matching stone. He was speaking now with a much older-looking aerian, who strongly resembled him, except that his face was lined and his dark hair shot liberally with gray. The respectful way that this much older-looking aerian treated the younger-looking one told clearly who it was. This was Aidan. The boy had heard stories about him and his wife, Flame Song, since he’d been a kid. He stared, wide-eyed, at a living legend, then shivered. It was creepy, looking at somebody who looked almost his own age, and was easily ten times that.
His trace of the family inheritance was an unusually keen sense of hearing and he caught a few words, “…would like to be alone now.” The silver-haired aerian nodded. Aidan, for so indeed it was, retreated back into the bedroom and shut the door. He crossed the dimly lit room and sat down on the bed next to Flame Song. He took one of her wrinkled hands in his own smooth, unlined ones. She had stayed in human form for weeks now, saying that she wanted to be able to hold Aidan’s hand when she died. His other hand gently stroked her white hair. No trace of youthful orange remained.
“We’re alone now love,” said Aidan.
Flame Song smiled softly, creasing her wrinkled face. Most of the lines were laugh lines and smile lines, though worry, hardship, and fear had their place as well. She looked like a woman of ninety, and had often joked that she was doing pretty good, looking like a woman less than half her age.
Aidan leaned forward and tenderly kissed her cheek. “How are you feeling, love?” he asked.
“As well as can be expected,” said Flame Song, and then coughed weakly. Her voice too was old, wavering and cracked. Sometimes it nearly broke Aidan’s heart to look at her now and remember how she had once been. But I’ve had far longer than most people do with my love, he thought to himself. I’ve nothing to regret and much to be thankful for.
“Aidan,” her weak voice spoke again, softly. “You know my time has come.” He nodded, what could he say? “I’m ready to leave this old, pain-filled body and go where I can run free again. But I want to ask you…” she paused to cough weakly again. “I don’t want to die slowly. I’m tired of pain.”
Aidan knew what she was asking. “Are you sure this is what you want? There will be pain this way too.”
“I know. But little enough, and of all the ways I ever thought of dying, this way is the way I always wanted to go.” Her breathing was becoming steadily more labored. She coughed once more, then said, “Don’t just leave me to die alone by inches, beloved.”
He nodded wordlessly. Then gently he gathered her frail form into his arms. He kissed her once more on the lips. She smiled weakly and said, “I’ll wait for you.”
“You won’t need to wait long.” He hugged her close for a moment, and then he bent forward. The vein was easy to find on her wrinkled neck. With all the gentleness he had, he sank his fangs into it. She drew in a long breath, but this was an old, familiar pain, and mingled with it was the joy of heart touching heart, as the shared blood renewed the bond between them. With feelings that ran deeper than any words they reaffirmed their love one last time. Aidan drank deeply, feeling her pulse weaken moment by moment until at last it stopped. He held her close long after her last heartbeat had faded and his tears dropped onto her unmoving face.
At long last he laid her still form on the bed. Gently he wiped the traces of blood off of her neck. He cleaned the blood carefully off of his lips and wiped his eyes as well. He knew some of those gathered outside would understand what he had done, but most would not. When all trace of what had happened was gone he went to the door. His face must have told all that needed telling, but still he said, “She’s gone.” One of his granddaughters put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He smiled softly at her. “It’s all right. I always knew this time would come. Thank you for being here.” He moved across the room then, pausing for a soft word with each of those who had come. Many tried to comfort him, but it always seemed that he gave more comfort than he received. He passed by the blond youngster and stopped. “You’re one of Sparkbright’s brood, aren’t you?”
“Yes sir,” said the boy, suddenly shy. Direct blue eyes that somehow looked as old as they were, though not a single wrinkle surrounded them, stared into his. The boy shivered at the gaze, but then Aidan smiled. Even though it showed the tips of his fangs, it was somehow not at all threatening or scary. He looked warm and caring.
“I never thought I’d have such a crowd of descendants, lad.” He glanced around the room.
“You, you didn’t, sir?”
“No.” The young-looking aerian shook his head. “I suppose I never really thought about it. Here you are, probably my fifth- or sixth-great grandson, if not more, and I’m talking to you. Sometimes it still amazes me.”
“It amazes me too, sir,” he dared to venture.
“Eh?” Then Aidan laughed. “I bet it does. I must seem as old as the hills to you.”
The boy nodded. “But you look like you’re my age, sir.”
“That I do, lad. Flame would always laugh about it. We both found it funny that I should look like her great-grandson and not her husband.”
“You loved her very much didn’t you, sir?” The young aerian’s tone was wistful, as if he longed after such a love himself.
Those ancient eyes stared at him again, looking suddenly very sad. “Yes. More than life, more than death, more than anything. Even two hundred years was still not enough.”
The boy couldn’t think of any reply. Then the older aerian that looked so much like Aidan came up to him. “It’s almost sunrise, Grandfather. Maybe we should start sending people home.”
Aidan closed his eyes for a moment. “You’re right. The sun will be up very soon. You can send everyone home as soon as you like, son, but first I want to go outside alone for a bit.”
Aidan turned and made his way through the crowd of his descendants. He no longer stopped to speak with all he passed, but rather moved with purpose through the room. For some reason the blond aerian boy followed him. The lurking aerian girl, who had a distinct resemblance to Aidan, now that the boy could compare the two, stepped out of the crowd of relations and followed as well. Aidan opened the front door and stepped out into the cool night air. Already the eastern sky was beginning to show the first hint of dawn. Aidan looked to the east. Then he reached up and pressed on a spot at the back of the iron torc he wore. With a click it came loose and he slipped it off of his neck. He handed it to the girl, who raised one eyebrow in an expression of mild surprise. “See that somebody takes good care of that. You know what it is.” She nodded and snapped the torc around her own neck. Then he reached up again and took the amulet off of his neck. He smiled again at the boy and handed it to him. “Here lad. You can keep it for a memento if you’d like, or see that it gets returned to Tara, so someone else can use it.”
“But Aidan, sir, isn’t that what protects you from the sun? It’s almost sunrise!”
“I know that lad. I see you paid attention to the stories they told you.” Then without a further word he turned and walked up the hill in the faint pre-dawn light.
The boy turned to the girl; the amulet clutched in his hand “Won’t he die now?”
“When I was a child I must have heard her say ‘I couldn’t live without you, Aidan,’ a hundred times. And I must have heard him say that he couldn’t live without her either at least as often. And now she’s gone.”
The boy nodded, understanding at least a little.
Without another word the pair watched as the eastern sky brightened. From his vantage point Aidan saw the clouds begin to turn colors, faint at first, and then brighter. It was a beautiful sunrise, all pink and gold. The sun’s rays radiated from the horizon to line the sky with swathes of light, and at last the sun itself inched above the horizon. Aidan stared straight at it, and then it seemed as though the sun reached out and gathered him in, and everything around him filled with light. Everything was blindingly white, until he saw a flash of orange, a flicker of flame… a swish of fire-orange hair. He heard a voice, a young voice that he had not heard in years, calling “Aidan!”
He answered, “I’m coming Flame!” And, spreading his wings, he soared into the light.
Behind him two aerians, boy and girl, watched the morning breeze scatter a pile of ashes on an empty hilltop.