“Where is he?”
Merrick pointed to a taper, fat with wax.
I frowned. “Then…I was right to save him?”
He blinked at me.
“He has more life to live. So, so much more life.” I leaned over, trying to somehow feel his essence, but it was just a candle. Nothing about it spoke of Kieron’s being.
“Look closer,” Merrick instructed, pointing.
There, at the base, was a slick of melted wax. It dripped from the sides of Kieron’s candle and pooled across the table. It grew larger as I watched, spreading to its neighbors. I was horrified to see the hot wax begin to melt another candle, causing it to teeter precariously.
I grabbed the second candle before it could fall over and die out, but the wax spread, threatening more.
“What’s going on?” I asked, swooping up another endangered flame. And another and another, until my hands were full of burning candles. The wax from Kieron’s candle continued to pool. I couldn’t save them all.
“Not all candles are made correctly.”
The flames I held licked at my face, and I so desperately wanted to put these candles down. I didn’t want to be responsible for theircontinued existence, but there was nowhere safe to store them. Kieron’s candle was ruining the entire table.
“What does that mean?”
“Some candles must be extinguished before their time. For the good of others. For the good of those you hold now.”
“Then why do you let them live?” I asked. My arms quivered under the weight of so much wax and fire. “You’re the Dreaded End. Can’t you stop the candle before it ruins the others?”
He shook his head. “There are limits to what even a god can do. I only collect the souls of those departed flames. I cannot blow them out myself. That’s what you’re meant to do. That’s why you see the deathshead. You can act where I cannot. Your hands can carry out the work I wish I could do. But this is what happens when you don’t.”
His long fingers swept over the table.
“Couldn’t we light another candle? For Kieron? One that’s made right and will burn the way it’s supposed to?” I asked, a stupid burst of hope rising in my chest.
“One candle for one flame. One life. That’s how it’s meant to work.”
“You could change it, surely.”
His shoulders dropped. “I can’t.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
One of the candles I held sparked, singeing my arm with its embers, and I let out a cry of pain, almost dropping the dozen I held.
A noise of horror choked me as I realized what chaos that would cause.
“I wanted you to see and understand. I’m not doing this to punish him. Or you. The shape of his life was determined before he was born. It was written in the make of that candle. I can’t change that. I thought you of all people would grasp this, Hazel. But you still seeeverything through mortal eyes, terrified of losing your tiny wisp of existence.”
Merrick wiped his face. His voice creaked, and I realized he was close to tears.
“How else should I see it?” I demanded. “Iama mortal. I have mortal eyes. I don’t…I don’t understand what you want me to…” I froze, fear snaking into my belly and leaving me cold despite the thousands of flames surrounding me. “What question am I meant to ask? When you tell my birth story, Merrick…what question am I supposed to ask?”
He shook his head, disappointed. “We’re going now. This was a mistake.”
My mind raced through the birthday story, glancing up to the orbs of fire. One of them was the Holy First, and the others—the many, many others—must be the Divided Ones.
“Tell me, Merrick,” I called after him, desperate to understand. “Tell me,please!”
He continued stalking away, his robes fluttering behind him like the wake behind a ship.
