“It’s not awkward for you to live there?”
At the end of the day, it was a free house, but you did not think Alex would accept that answer gracefully. She was right, after all, even if awkward did not fully capture it. Elizabeth helped raise Alex, whereas the druid was just a wise friend to you. The hours you spent together were in pursuit of knowledge and magic to save the world; it slipped your mind to ask her favorite color, or how she grew up. Those were details you learned after her end. (She liked green, and was shy as a child.)
It did not feel right to share the real answer with Alex; that sometimes you stared at the walls for hours, because you still had not redecorated, and never intended to, because she had filled every space on her walls with photos and trinkets. Everyone still referred to it as Elizabeth’s house, not yours, and you thought of it the same way. The house was spacious for one person, but you barely spent time in it. You were only there to sleep, when Linda had enough research to do that she did not let you stay over, or when Avalon was in one of his moods and locked you out for the night, or when even Ydris found you too boring or on-edge to play with.
Last week, Anne had asked you how long you had been on Jorvik, and was unsettled by how you stared at her blankly, unable to answer. A summer. It was only ever supposed to be a summer. It was funny, really, that when she described how time felt on Pandoria, you could almost relate—another thing you would never admit to.
After her release, you and Anne spent a lot of time together. As expected of two young adult girls, you were often found chatting over coffee at the Firgrove cafe, or giggling over hair choices in the Goldenleaf salon. You both raised Concorde, though some days Anne had to take a break and remind herself that she really was retraining her horse as a foal, and this was not another Pandoric time-loop nightmare. In the beginning, Concorde stared at you, and reminded you that Elizabeth bonded with another incarnation of him. You told him you were sorry. He refused to listen to you for the rest of the day.
Anne once confided in you that she felt like the odd woman out in the Soul Riders, and after you understood her better, you told her the same. It was the first secret you let off your chest. There were only supposed to be four Soul Riders, but there you were—a poor replacement for Anne when you first started training, and now no longer a stand-in at all, but something else undefined. The druids did not know what to do with you. They kept you close, in Elizabeth’s house, trained you at the northern paddock, and gave you the missions any one of them could have handled in an afternoon. Alex, Lisa, and Linda treated Anne like she had never left, and you like you had always been part of them. Neither you nor Anne felt comfortable with it, but you could not blame them. They did not even notice they were doing it, and was that not beautiful? They saw the five of you as unbroken sisters, like you were invariably meant to end up this way. Neither you nor Anne would shatter that image. They drew strength from it, and with the ever-looming Garnok threat, with shadows around every corner, every bit of magic you could sap from one another was priceless.
Living in Elizabeth’s old house was a blessing. The druids did not exactly pay a wage for Soul Riding, but they did not make you pay rent to live in a poor dead woman’s house on their homeland, either. You could pay for food by helping out Farah, and anything extra you did around the island helped buy research books for Linda or even some new guitar strings for Lisa.
You did not need Elizabeth’s ghost to keep you company. Your horse was everything you needed, in the end, and you had your Soul Sisters to fill in the gaps. The druids supported you, and the grass in Jorvik grew only to carry your feet. Surely, any doubts you felt were spurred on by Garnok alone, Aideen curse him.
Yet, everything kept her alive. Concorde did not speak of it, but his eyes lingered on things that bled with her memory. The Soul Riders knew that when Alex could not be found anywhere else, she would be by Elizabeth’s grave in Doyle’s Abbey; often with Maya, usually practicing her lightning magic. She asserted that her mentor’s criticisms always made her better. The roses bloomed with the scent of her perfume. Your neighbor crocheted on a bench in Valedale using the yarn you gave them from Elizabeth’s extensive collection. The house creaked with the memory of her footsteps. You asked Fripp, hesitantly, if her spirit could still be around; you had to free lost souls often enough that it was a valid concern. He told you not to worry, but when you next came to her cabin, it smelled strangely of herbs and your fingers tensed with the presence of ancient magic. He did not bring it up again.
“No, it’s not awkward. I couldn’t imagine a stranger living in her home; could you?”
Alex smiled at that. “You’re right. I’m glad it’s you. You keep her alive.”
And that was the best you could’ve asked for, all things considered.
