Elevation 3: The Fiery Spiral. Helen Brain

she’s not looking beautiful, but ugly and twisted. She gestures to Micah. “Come on.”

      The moment they’re gone Aunty Figgy bursts into tears. “I knew it. I told her not to go.” Alexia takes her in her arms and rocks her. “I tried to warn her. She wouldn’t listen.”

      “Shh. There now,” Alexia murmurs. “Shh.” And she rubs her back like a baby, although tears are running down her own face.

      I focus all my energy on her crumpled body. “Aunty Figgy, I’m here. Don’t cry. They didn’t kill me. Lucas had the last amulet. We succeeded. We opened the portal …”

      But the room becomes less distinct, as though it’s covered with grey film, and their faces disintegrate into water again. I’m back in Celestia, too stunned to do anything but stare at the flask.

      You can’t trust men, I decide. They’re all just out to screw you over. I’m never falling in love ever again.

      LUCAS

      Sadly, although I am in paradise, with beauty, with animals and plant life to discover, with nobody to torment me, with all the time alone I have ever wanted, I am restless. Isi hasn’t come back and I’m uncharacteristically pained by her absence.

      The restlessness builds until I am forced to run to escape it. But no matter how far I run, how hard my feet pound the rich, crumbling soil, no matter how many shrubs and succulents and trees laden with strange and delicious fruit I pass, the restlessness chases me like a looming shadow intent on consuming me.

      It feels so real that I find myself repeatedly glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see whatever is casting this ominous shadow.

      Finally, I quickly slip behind a tree, hoping to catch sight of the spectre, but no monster emerges from the bushes. The birds stop singing as I pass, and looking back on the path I have come, the colours are a little more faded and the light dimmer, as though a cloud has passed over the sun. There is no cloud; the sky is as vividly blue as ever.

      The more convinced I become that something is pursuing me, the more deeply I am concerned that it may also be pursuing Ebba. I must find her to check on her wellbeing. I need to. I do not wish to. But it is my duty to ensure that she is safe.

      So turning back, I run towards the shadow, trying to contain the anxiety encroaching into my chest. But oddly, as I run towards the place where I saw her last, the pressure of the shadow begins to dissipate. I wonder if Francis knows what I am doing. If so, I hope he’s pleased to see me attempting to care about another human being.

      I find her sitting alone on a rock, half hidden behind a shrub that looks like buchu. Her auburn hair falls over her face, her big toe scratching in the dirt. She looks extremely unhappy.

      I am uncertain how to proceed. The shadow that pursued me has disappeared, to my relief. I have checked that she is safe. I should go. But – does this qualify as engaging with another person? Or do I actually have to speak to her?

      Dawdling there, undecided, I recall another time she looked equally unhappy. Up until that point she had not registered much in my consciousness. I knew she had inherited everything from old Ms Den Eeden, but Hal had claimed her as his, and I considered that anyone interested in my brother must be as vacuous as he.

      The morning of the Shrine service when my father announced she and Hal would be getting married, I presumed she would be delighted. I watched with interest as her expression changed to one of horror and she was taken against her will into the antechamber to be prepared for the ceremony. When Ma Evelyn came rushing out, bleeding from a stab wound, I had to work hard to hide my delight. Perhaps Ebba showed some of Ms Den Eeden’s determination and spirit after all.

      My father would not allow her to get away with publicly humiliating him. After a night in the dungeon he would almost certainly execute her friends and force an immediate marriage to Haldus.

      Greenhaven needed her. If she married Hal, my father would gain control over it. I bribed my way into the dungeon by bringing the guards wine, dosed with an infusion of herbs from a recipe I’d found in the Book of the Goddess. I located her cell, and found her as sad and pensive as she looks now. I sat quietly with her, relishing the company of a young female who didn’t feel the need to chatter like my sister and her friends. When the wine had taken effect, I left, dropping a map of the dungeon and leaving the gate unlocked. Would she be brave enough to attempt an escape? The next day she was back at Greenhaven.

      She has not noticed me watching her, she is too intent on staring at something in the palm of her hand. At last she looks up, gives a sigh and her shoulders droop.

      She turns towards me, still not seeing me, and before I am able to control myself, I call her name.

      She jumps up, relief flooding her face. She holds her arms out to me. Oh, sweet Goddess, she’s going to hug me and I don’t know how to hold a girl – a woman. I might do it wrong. I’m not like Micah and Hal who knew all the right moves, and put them to good use.

      But I am spared. She stops suddenly mid-stride, and her face closes. “Oh … it’s you … Hello.”

      Her voice is cold and I’m overcome by a curious mingling of relief that she doesn’t greet me with more enthusiasm, and pain.

      I cannot think of the right thing to say beyond “hello”. I stand there awkwardly, wishing I had my brother’s silver tongue.

      “I’m enjoying my journey,” she says, though even a blind man would see this is a blatant lie. “I’m on my way to the mountains. I’ve got a long way to go.”

      What have I done to offend her?

      “I have to be off,” she says. “Good to see you again.”

      I stare after her as she strides off, Isi close at her heels. Why can’t I find the right words? Why, when confronted by people, am I struck dumb? Isi didn’t come up to me either, and that oddly pains me too.

      This is enough. I have done what Francis demanded. I have opened my heart and, like the rest of humanity, she finds me repulsive.

      So I go back to my studies, spending my days observing the peaceful way the creatures coexist in this world. The plants are more beautiful, the birdsong more exquisite, the strength and agility and diversity of animals more marvellous than I could have imagined. And yet … something is missing. There is too much beauty and harmony. There is nothing to counterbalance it. Nothing except the growing sense that darkness looms over my shoulder, becoming more ominous the further I walk away from Ebba.