Trial by Fire

Something about this bothered Lily, and it took her a moment to untangle what that was. Leaving this world meant she would never see Rowan again. But she knew that was a foolish argument. If she stayed in this world, she was going to die in this oubliette. Still, leaving meant leaving him.

Grasping at straws, Lily came up with the only rational argument that presented itself to her. “Not even you? What if I could get you out of here?”

“Especially not for me. I’m a used-up old fool.” Lily could hear him smiling as he said the words. “This is an opportunity for me to set things right, and I feel blessed to be able to have it.”

“I guess I’m blessed, too. I don’t think I’d have made it if you weren’t here with me.” Genuine gratitude warmed Lily through and through. She knew that she would have given up days ago if she hadn’t had a friend down there with her in the dark. “Thank you.”

A few moments passed before she heard the shaman speak again. “All right, enough now,” he said gruffly. “Settle down and get to work.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Lily said, and then she turned her attention to her breathing. She focused on relaxing until she could feel her soul about to leave her body.

“Okay, you’re ready,” the shaman said. “But this time, don’t just jump up. Jump up and out, You’ll know you’ve done it if you feel like you’re a drum and the whole world is a-beatin’ on you. But be careful. If you see a wall of ash, fall back into yourself, and try again a moment later,” he said.

“A wall of ash?” Lily whispered, confused.

The shaman paused. “There are more versions of the world that have failed than have succeeded,” he said carefully. “Many worlds have died in mass sickness, and many more than that in great holocausts. There is no point in sending your spirit into either of these kinds of worlds.”

“How many more?”

“There are an infinite number of universes,” the shaman said, brushing past her question. “Just focus on finding a living one. Leave the cinder worlds to the dead who burned ’em.”

“But—”

“Please, Lily,” he said. His voice was impatient, but behind his impatience was fear. “If you see ash or sickness, fall back into yourself. Immediately. It won’t do you any good to dwell on the cinder worlds.”

“Okay,” Lily said, struggling to accept what the shaman said.

Then she jumped.

A pounding vibration tingled through her. It was so complex and varied even her skin shivered independently over her muscles. For a moment, it felt like the vibration would shake her to pieces, but then it stopped. A moment later, another one started—just as complex and overwhelming as the first. Lily tried to make sense of it, tried to piece it apart, but she couldn’t keep up with all the changes and variations. She could sense that it was different from the first vibration, but she wasn’t fully aware of how it was different. She was too awed by its enormity to get her head around it. Then the second vibration stopped.

Lily found herself spirit walking a few feet above a forest floor. There was a dusting of snow on everything. She drifted up, disembodied, exulting in the brightness and beauty of the world around her. She was free of the darkness of her cell, and even though she couldn’t feel the world with a body, having her spirit partake of it was a joy. It was late afternoon. Lily saw huge lichen-covered boulders hunkering in the thin, brilliant light refracting off the winter snow. She realized that it had to be late December. The boulders around her formed a slight cliff above her that spilled down in a V formation.

She kept drifting up. She thought she recognized the place, but she couldn’t be sure. It looked like a Massachusetts forest with lots of tall trees and trails, except there were more rock formations than usual. Something from her memory kept telling her she knew this place. She floated up and up, then saw a parking lot and a freeway. There were no freeways in Lillian’s world.

“Lily. You must come back now,” the shaman called.