Inclining my head, I said, “Your wish is my command, Goddess.” Anamika scowled at me and then turned her attention back to the mountain. Before my eyes, two large trees grew, sprouting up from the bank of thick snow and ice. Standing between them, she wove a spell, and the trees glowed with an inner light that threatened to burst through the bark. Sure enough, the bark sloughed off, and the leaves and branches shriveled and were reabsorbed. Intricate carvings appeared on each one.
When she placed her palm against one of the trees, I joined her and we left a handprint behind that slowly faded. The scarf rose in the air and wove a magical, sheer cloth between the two trunks. The snowflakes that swirled softly nearby were caught in the wind Ana created. The threads and the snow-filled wind whipped together in a frenzy, until a cyclone appeared between the two trees. An explosion of light made me cover my eyes, and when it faded, I saw a shimmering screen that stretched between the two posts.
Without looking to see if I’d follow, Ana stepped inside and disappeared. The scarf detached from the sparkling substance and floated over to me. Catching it, I stuffed it into my pocket and charged ahead after her.
She’d already been at work in the few seconds it took me to enter. The vast land of Shangri-La stretched before us, and without her even consulting me beforehand, an entire forest erupted from the ground. Crouching down, she pressed her hands to the newly sprung grass, and a river flowed from her palms. Creating its own channel, it flowed over rocks and pooled in small depressions as it continued its winding path.
The heavy outerwear unspun from our frames and was reabsorbed into the scarf. Ana, now barefooted, began walking, and where her feet touched the ground, flowers of all kinds sprung up. She touched the limb of a tree, and great flocks of birds erupted from the leaves, heading off in all directions. When we passed a familiar hill, I said that there was supposed to be an old boat on the top and that animals of all kinds lived in the knolls around it.
With a barely discernable nod, she fashioned the boat, and animals of all description poured out from the open door, down the ramp, and set off to find new homes. Several of them trailed us as we walked. She stopped before a vast, barren field. Tapping a finger against her lip, she mumbled something about roses. Before my eyes, hundreds of rosebushes stretched out thorny arms and blossomed when she touched them.
Pressing her nose into a full purple rose, she inhaled deeply and smiled. My heart wrenched with sorrow at seeing her in her element. Her roses made her happy. I found myself wishing she’d turn the power of that smile in my direction. That I could make her happy like that instead of inducing her to throttle me. She deserved happiness. Ana worked so hard and helped so many, the least I could do was not argue with her.
Ana cupped the flower in her hand and blew on it softly. The sparkling petals flew away in the wind, and when she lifted her cupped hands, she showed me what remained. There, sitting on her palm, was a lovely little fairy with purple wings.
“Hello,” Ana said.
The creature fluttered her wings, catching the air, and her body rose from Ana’s palm until she was eye to eye with her goddess.
“Yes, you may. Of course,” Ana said, carrying on a one-way conversation. “You have the freedom to do whatever you like,” she added. “Go now. And wake the others.”
With that, the fairy fluttered over the rosebushes, touching her feet down on top of every blossom. One by one the blossoms opened and a new fairy was born. They stretched delicate limbs and yawned, and then I heard a soft chirrup as they flew for the first time. Soon the first was joined by another fairy and another, until so many flitted in the air that the sunlight sparkled on their dazzling, diaphanous wings.
“They’re beautiful,” I said as we continued to the Silvanae village.
“You would know,” Ana muttered.
“What was that?” I asked, confused.
“Nothing.”
I blew out a frustrated breath, my determination to make her happy fading. I decided she was just in a really bad mood, and with my luck, I’d have to wait a century or two for her to snap out of it. I sighed and followed her, giving her a good head start.
When we reached the area where the village was supposed to be, she stopped and closed her eyes. It was almost as if she sensed what belonged there. She hummed softly and as she did, the earth shook and a great wind blew. The ground split and immense trees sprung up and unfurled their leaves. When they had grown to about half the size I remembered, Ana walked up to the first one and sang softly.
A branch lowered, and tucked inside the leafy twigs was a young Silvanae baby. Ana took him from the fallen branch and tickled his toes while he cooed. My heart skipped. She was so natural with him, so unexpectedly sweet. It made me think of her soft spot for all lost children and I regretted teasing her about it before. Gently, she set the baby down on a carpet of grass that sprang up, thick and verdant. It formed what was almost a cradle for the child.
Down the line of trees she went, retrieving a newborn from each one. Lifting her palm to her lips, she kissed it and blew, and immediately, she was surrounded by fairies. They listened carefully to her instructions and then swarmed off until each grassy cradle was encompassed by their fluttering forms.
She told the young babies and their fairy nursemaids a story like a mother would to a child at bedtime. She spoke of a man named Noe, who came to their land with a boat full of animals. Of a goddess and her consort who created their beautiful home. Then Ana talked about a man and a woman who would someday come to their lands and how they were to help and guide them. When she was finished, we continued onward, leaving the babies behind.
“Do you really think the tiny fairies can care for the babies?” I asked.
“They produce a growth elixir from blue flowers that flourish by the river. The Silvanae will be full grown by the time we return.”
“Oh.” After another minute, I asked, “Who told you the story of the ark and the animals?”
“Who do you think?”
Of course it was Kadam. She stopped in her tracks when she came upon a squawking red bird. It danced next to a newly fashioned nest filled with open-mouthed, chirping young. Holding out a finger, Ana beckoned to the bird and it flew down to her offered perch. After a moment of indiscernible cheeping, Ana answered, “I’ll see what I can do.” She reached inside the nest, carefully nudging aside the gangly chicks, and removed an unhatched egg. Ana tucked it into her pocket and we went ahead.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“You don’t recognize it?”
“What, the egg?”
“The birds. This one is the hatchling. The one I’m going to raise.”
Now that she said it, I could see the similarities between the mother and the red bird Kadam had given me. I shook my head, wondering at her ability to wrap her mind around the disparities in time. As we walked, she warmed the egg with her hands and whispered to it softly. It shimmered and disappeared. I didn’t bother to ask her what she did with it.
When we arrived at the cavern where we’d found the omphalos stone, Ana created the bees and the stone easily enough as well as the chemical smoke created when her fire-warmed hands pressed against it but there was no way to imbue the stone with the ability to see into the future. We puzzled over it for a while, Ana trying different things, but nothing worked.
I was leaning over the stone looking into its depths when Ana took hold of my dangling necklace and pulled. Her eyes narrowed as she considered the small piece of the truth stone I always kept with me.
“How many shards of this do you possess?” she asked.
“A few. Why?”
“May I have this one?”