Epilogue

Rome stood on the beautifully crafted wood bridge with a small yellow daffodil in her hands, and a certain red book tucked under arms. The glen was quiet with a soft bubbling of the stream but no buzz of insects. It was night and the celebration could barely be heard. The river was tumbling over stones and rocks and wound its way through all the reeds and pussy willows.

The world was celebrating, Helios was gone, and the evil that it represented had disappeared, never to return. Her brothers were safe. Caërwen and Lana had both made it through fine. Arion, ever living looked older than before but unmistakably alive. Every city, in every country had been told and all were rejoicing. But she had noticed that Othello had disappeared, none knew when or why, but he was gone. The Lyvith had come back and settled on the ground, spoke to many. It was a day to remember and Rome hid from it all. Everything had left her.

She did not hear him come up nor did she jump when he spoke.

“Rome I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Brin said smiling, “The party’s just began and you’re the star of the evening.”
Rome did not answer just softly touched the petals of the flower.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She let the flower drop and it fell gently to be swept away by the river.

“Do you remember that myth?” she asked quietly and Brin walked up onto the bridge beside her.

“Which one?” He asked softly.

Rome turned to him. “The one about a bridge, that when you make a wish and cross over it, you might just end up in Dassania?”

Brin nodded. “or if you walk under it, it takes you to Cabiri.”

Rome didn’t say anything.

“I never knew my mother,” she said suddenly, “and when I met her it was just like meeting another meaningless person. And my father…” She trailed off.

“They are together now,” Brin said rubbing her shoulder. “They’re in Cabiri.”

“If I were not around would you take care of the twins?” Rome asked.

“of course,” Brin replied, “but why wouldn’t you be around?”

Rome stepped down from the bridge and hesitated at the bottom. She walked into the river. The water rose to her thighs.

Perhaps it was because the bridge was high, or maybe it was the river was deep, but it didn’t matter. Rome could still stand a full height and walk under the bridge. She held tightly to that red leather book, and a small package, the same one Brin had given her all those months ago.

Brin left the bridge and came to a stop watching her as she looked down under the bridge.

“Rome what are you doing, they’ll be looking for us back at the…” he stopped watching her carefully.

“Make a wish, Brin.”

Rome walked slowly at first then moving through the water easily. Brin realised what she was doing and made a move to stop her but she had already walked under the bridge. Brin ran out into the river, only to about his knees.

He peered into the vast stretch under that bridge, larger than the bridge itself.

There she was, disappearing in the mist that floated around blocking sight past the edge. Suddenly a gust from behind him swept through the underside of the bridge and all the mist was dissolved.

She was gone.

Brin could see the river on the other side, but Rome was not there. He stood for a moment then left. Somehow he had known that was going to happen all along.

The stream bubbled with delight, making its way around reeds and pussy willows, with a magnificently crafted wood bridge stretching across.

Though no one was there to see it, the wonderfully crafted wood bridge disappeared into the mist. Leaving a small red book on the far side of the river, undamaged by the water.