“I have led a quiet life other than these last few months. As for Ren, the tiger and Yesubai’s gift kept Ren young,” he explained. “The Damon Amulet grants long life, especially to you and Ren, who embraced the essence of the tiger. But you and Ana have lived many, many years. Much longer when you consider how many weeks and months you’ve skipped through time. And you’ve drawn upon the power of the amulet in ways the rest of us haven’t.
“Ana has always wielded her power through you,” he said. “It’s been shared freely between you all these years through your bond, allowing you both to do many great things in serving mankind, but it burns through her now. She is beginning to feel the weight of her mortality.”
“You’re certain?”
“I am.” Kadam touched her shoulder and I saw something else in his eyes.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I want to say I’m sorry.”
“For what? You didn’t cause this.”
“No. But I accelerated the process.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you…if you didn’t have to save me from trapping myself in the grave, the two of you might have had many more years together. I’m afraid saving Ren’s life and then rescuing me cost you both. We drained your power significantly. It’s a terrible thing, son. I cannot ask you to forgive me, for there is nothing I could ever do to make up for this loss.”
I took her hand as she writhed in fever, pressing her fingers to my lips. We didn’t speak for many moments. “It doesn’t matter,” I finally told him quietly. “Ana would have wanted you saved no matter the cost. I knew there would be a price to pay.”
Kadam nodded and stayed nearby, watching over Ana with me all night. I tried once to press him to tell me how long we had left, but his gleaming eyes gave away nothing. We could have centuries left, years, months, or days. The not knowing was the worst part.
If I were a petitioner, I might have prayed to Ana for help, but who could a goddess and her lowly husband pray to? For two weeks, I sat at her side, wiping her brow as I tried to stave off the little voice that niggled at the back of my mind, a harbinger, telling me there was more to this sickness than Kadam was saying.
Ana recovered, but she wasn’t the same after her extended illness. Her powers had diminished greatly and she was indeed beginning to show signs of age. Soon, every time I touched her, I willed energy into her. It became an obsession of mine. Each day I watched as new lines appeared around her mouth and dark spots bloomed on her hands. White strands of hair shone among the black and even her beloved garden began to suffer. For the first time in centuries, her roses began to die.
One day, as I took her hands, blowing on them and rubbing them, pushing as much strength into her as I could, I heard her voice in my mind.
Sohan, she said softly. It’s time to stop, my love.
I lifted my head and asked out loud, “Am I hurting you?”
No.
Frowning, I said, “Then what is it?” Ana looked at me then and something inside me unraveled and tore. “No,” I said vehemently. “No, Ana. Not this.” Tears blurred my vision and I sobbed. My Ana, my wife, wrapped her arms around my back and pulled me close as I cried.
“Shush, my tiger,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “It’s time. We have postponed it for as long as we could.”
I lifted my head. “I can do more. I can—”
“Come with me,” she interrupted. “Take me beyond this plane one last time.”
Ana had long since lost the ability to time jump and relied solely on me to move her back and forth. I’d stopped doing it after noticing how each leap drained her. I was going to deny her, to try to argue with her, but she locked her mind with mine and any assertion I was going to make drained away in the face of her certainty.
Lifting her gently in my arms, tears trickling down my face, I asked, “Where do you want to go?”
She smoothed the hair away from my eyes, kissed my sticky cheek, and said, “You know the place.”
I nodded and took my wife back to our little cabin in Shangri-La. Her body trembled from the transition.
“We’re here,” I said.
Her voice was soft and still in my mind, Take me to the waterfall.
I did. Making a blanket, I settled down with her in my arms, my back against a tree. She leaned against me, her silky hair tickling my neck. Promise me, she said.
Squeezing her waist, I answered, Anything, prēmikā.
Promise you’ll finish carving the truth stone.
It had never seemed important before. There were too many things I wanted to do, most of them involving Ana. Every time I’d picked the stone up to finish it, something happened that drew my attention away. I’d always rationalized that there was plenty of time. Now, it seemed, my time was running out. I nodded, brushing my cheek against hers.
We sat quietly together, watching the water. Our minds were locked together and there was no need for words. No need to talk. I knew her every thought and every wish as she knew mine. Her biggest regret at the end was leaving me alone. She made me promise that I wouldn’t try to cause harm to myself and that I would check in on our progeny from time to time.
With those final wishes settled, the only thing left was the contented hum of our love. It burned softly, ebbing and flowing between us, growing fainter, until, finally, my Ana was gone. She looked so peaceful, so still, as I turned her in my arms. It was as if she were merely sleeping. Crying openly, I kissed her lips a final time and then her cheeks and each of her closed eyelids, not wanting to part from her.
We had been together for centuries, but it still hadn’t been long enough. Even an eternity with Ana wasn’t enough time. The two of us had been one in service, one in mind, one in spirit, and one in love. But now, with Ana gone, there was just…one. I was alone now and would be for the remainder of my days. The best I could hope for was that it wouldn’t be long.
“I love you, my lady fair,” I murmured, the salty tears dripping down my cheeks and falling to her porcelain face. I wiped them away, then stood and prepared a final resting place for the woman I loved. The house in the garden melted away and in its place rose a great stone. Carvings of flowers adorned the smooth granite.
Picking up the goddess Durga, the mother of our children, my still-beautiful wife, I lay her on top, folding her hands across her chest. As the scarf made her a lovely dress and flowers sprung up in bunches around her shrine, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, son,” Kadam said. He hugged me tight as I cried anew into his shoulder.
We stood together for a time, just looking at her. The two of us lingered at Ana’s grave for three days, keeping vigil, much as my mother had done for my father. During that time, neither he nor I slept or ate. I caused silvery moonlight to rest on her lovely face at night and shielded her from the heat of the sun during the day. When three days had passed, I approached her stony bower and touched my lips to her forehead a final time. Then the stone crept up and over her, sealing her in her tomb.
I don’t know how long I stood there, my palm pressed against the stone, but it was long enough for Kadam to leave and return, because he said, “The Silvanae know she is here. They will keep vigil over her for as long as their race exists, and the fairies will maintain her garden.” When I didn’t respond, he said, “Come, I’ll stay with you a while.”
Kadam remained with me for another week after that, though I knew it cost him. No one lived at our mountain home now. All our closest friends had died, Lady Silkworm had been long since buried next to Isha, and we no longer needed servants once the children left. The supplicants had dwindled away years before. So, I was alone now in the home I’d once shared with Ana.
When I came to myself enough to notice the fatigue showing on Kadam’s face and in his eyes, I told him he needed to go home. Assured that I was stable enough in my despair, he did.
The years going forward were a blur to me other than a few notable experiences. I went about carving the truth stone, and as I did, I realized I had a companion after all. One day, I was sitting in Ana’s favorite chair, working on the stone, when I noticed a gleam in the window.
“Hello there,” I said, happy to see her. I set down the knife and dusted the fragments from my legs.