THE LAST KING OF EMBERWYLD : THE DYING LIGHT
Chapter 8: The Mother’s Secret
The garden was beautiful.
More beautiful than any garden Kaelen had ever seen. The lilies were white and gold, their petals soft, their scent sweet. The grass was green and lush, soft beneath his feet. The sky above was blue—not the pale, sickly blue of the Blighted lands, but a deep, rich blue, the color of hope.
And standing in the center of the garden, her back to him, was his mother.
She was wearing the dress she had worn in the portrait—soft gray wool, simple and clean. Her dark hair was pulled back in a braid, the way she used to wear it when she worked in the fields. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and her head was bowed, as if she were praying.
Kaelen walked toward her.
His heart was pounding.
“Mother,” he said.
She turned.
Her face was the same—the same dark eyes, the same gentle smile, the same lines around her mouth that appeared when she was worried. But her eyes were not black like the nightmare’s. They were brown. Warm. Human.
“Kaelen,” she said. Her voice was soft, gentle, like a lullaby. “My son. My brave, foolish son.”
“You’re real.”
“I’m as real as this garden. As real as the lilies. As real as the memories you carry in your heart.”
“You died.”
“I died. But I never left you. I have been watching you. From the other side of the door. From the space between. From the place where mothers go when their children still need them.”
Kaelen’s eyes filled with tears.
“I missed you.”
“I know. I missed you too.”
She opened her arms.
Kaelen walked into them.
She was warm. Solid. Real. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, her breath against his hair, her tears on his shoulder.
They held each other for a long time.
When they finally pulled apart, Kaelen’s face was wet.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “About the door. About the bargain. About Father.”
His mother was silent for a long moment.
“Because I wanted to protect you,” she said. “From the truth. From the pain. From the choices you would have to make.”
“I’m not a child anymore.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.”
She took his hands.
Her skin was warm.
“The door is not just a wound,” she said. “It is a test. A test for the old blood. A test for those who carry the magic. A test for those who are brave enough to face the darkness.”
“What is the test?”
The mother looked at the lilies.
At the sky.
At the light.
“The test is to choose,” she said. “To choose between yourself and the world. Between your life and the lives of everyone you love. Between the easy path and the right path.”
“And what is the right path?”
She looked at him.
Her brown eyes were sad.
“There is no right path. There is only your path. The one you choose. The one you walk. The one that leads you where you need to go.”
Kaelen looked at the garden.
At the lilies.
At the light.
“You chose to die for me,” he said. “That was your path.”
“It was. And I would choose it again. A thousand times. A million times. You are my son. You are worth every sacrifice.”
“But I’m not worth the world.”
“The world is made of sons and daughters. Of mothers and fathers. Of people who love each other and lose each other and find each other again. You are not separate from the world. You are the world.”
Kaelen shook his head.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will. In time.”
His mother reached up and touched his face.
“The key you carry,” she said. “The blade you wield. The blood in your veins. They are not just tools. They are pieces of you. Pieces of your father. Pieces of me. Pieces of everyone who came before.”
“What do I do with them?”
She smiled.
“Use them,” she said. “Not to guard the door. Not to hold back the darkness. Use them to close it. Forever.”
“The man in the throne room said that would kill me.”
“He was right.”
“Then how can you ask me to do it?”
His mother’s eyes filled with tears.
“Because I am asking you to live,” she said. “Not as the guardian. Not as the warden. Not as the prisoner. As yourself. As the person you were meant to be.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“Then find out. Before the door opens. Before the nightmares come. Before it’s too late.”
The garden began to fade.
The lilies wilted. The grass browned. The sky darkened.
“Wait,” Kaelen said. “I’m not ready to let you go.”
“You’re not letting me go. You’re carrying me with you. In your heart. In your memory. In the love you’ll never stop feeling.”
“But it hurts.”
“I know. Grief is love with nowhere to go. But you have somewhere to go now. You have a door to close. A world to save. A life to live.”
Kaelen looked at his mother.
“Will I ever see you again?”
She smiled.
It was a sad smile, small and tired and full of love.
“Every time you look at the lilies,” she said. “Every time you remember. Every time you love someone the way I loved you. I’ll be there. Watching. Waiting. Loving you.”
She reached out and touched his face.
“Now go,” she said. “The door is waiting. And you still have work to do.”
Kaelen held her hands.
“Just a little longer,” he said.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Just a little longer.”
They sat together on the grass, mother and son, holding hands.
The garden faded around them, but they did not fade.
“Tell me about your life,” his mother said. “Tell me about the things I missed.”
Kaelen told her.
About Lyra. About his father’s slow decline. About the village dying, one family at a time. About the hunger and the fear and the hopelessness.
He told her about the king. About the Duskblade. About the guardian and the door and the nightmares.
He told her about his shadow self. About the boy he had killed. About the guilt he carried.
His mother listened.
She asked questions.
She laughed and cried and smiled.
And when Kaelen had finished, she kissed his forehead.
“I’m proud of you,” she said. “I have always been proud of you. I will always be proud of you.”
Kaelen’s tears fell onto their joined hands.
“Thank you, Mother.”
“Thank you for being my son.”
The garden dissolved.
The lilies turned to light. The grass turned to light. The sky turned to light.
Kaelen held his mother’s hands as she faded, dissolving into light, into dust, into memory.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, Kaelen. Always.”
She smiled.
And then she was gone.
Kaelen stood alone in the hallway.
The woman in white was waiting.
“You’re crying,” she said.
“I’m mourning.”
“There’s a difference?”
Kaelen wiped his eyes.
“How many more doors?”
The woman looked at the endless line.
“One,” she said. “The last one.”
“What’s behind it?”
She smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
“The truth,” she said. “The truth about the door. The truth about the nightmare. The truth about yourself.”
She opened the last door.
Beyond it was darkness.
But not empty darkness.
There was something in it.
Something waiting.
Something that had been waiting for a very long time.
“Go,” the woman said. “Face it. End it. Be free.”
Kaelen stepped through the door.