The witch tipped the cup. Eureka winced and swallowed.
The brew tasted so unexpectedly wonderfullike caramel hot chocolate thickened with creamand Eureka was so unfathomably thirsty, and that first swallow filled her body with such long-awaited warmth that she couldnt stop. She guzzled the rest before she knew what she had done. The witches beamed as she wiped her lips.
What a joy to see the old language again, Esme sang, flipping through the pages Eureka had given her with her eyes closed. Shall I begin at the beginning, which is never a beginning but is always in the middle of something already begun?
I already know some of the story, Eureka said. I had a translator at home.
Home? Esme lifted her chin. Her eyes were still closed, amethyst lids glittering.
In Louisiana, where I lived before I cried. She thought of Madame Blavatskys crimson lipstick, her tobacco-scented patchwork cloak and flock of lovebirds, her compassion when Eureka needed it most. My translator was very good.
Esmes painted lips pulled skeptically on her spiral pipe. Artemisia embers glowed. She opened her eyes. One would have to be from our home, from Atlantis, in order to read this text. Are you sure this translator did not feed you lies?
Eureka shook her head. She knew things she couldnt have known. She could read this, Im certain of it. I believe my mother could, too.
You mean to suggest that someone has been dipping our pure tongue in the filthy creeks of your world?
I dont know about that
What do you know? Esme interrupted.
Eureka closed her eyes and remembered the exhilaration shed felt when she first learned her ancestors story. I know Selene loved Leander. I know they had to flee Atlantis to be together. I know they boarded a ship the night before Selene was supposed to marry Atlas. I know Delphine was scorned when Leander chose Selene. She paused to survey the gossipwitches, who had never seemed so serious, so still. They were hanging on her words the way Eureka had hung on Madame Blavatskys, as if she were telling the old tale for the first time. And I know the last thing Selene saw when she sailed away were gossipwitches, who spoke the curse of her Tearline.
Her Tearline? Esme repeated with a strange lilt.
Yes, they prophesied that someday, one of Selenes descendants would cause the rise of Atlantis. It would be a girl born on a day that doesnt exist, a motherless child and childless mother whose emotions brew like a storm her whole life until she couldnt withstand them anymore. And she wept. Eureka swallowed. And flooded the world with her tears. Thats me. Im her.
So you dont know the most important part. With great care Esme smoothed the missing pages, held them up to the amethyst light. Do you remember where you left off with your imposter translator?
I remember. Eureka unzipped her bag and pulled out the plastic-sheathed book. She turned to a wrinkled page flagged with a green Abyssinian lovebird feather. She pointed at the bottom corner, where the text tapered off. Selene and Leander were separated in a shipwreck. They never saw each other again, but Selene saidEureka paused to remember her exact words The witches prophecy is the only lasting remnant of our love.
Your translator guessed correctly. We witches clearly are the stars of this story, but there is one other lasting remnant about which you should know. Esme held the parchment up to the light again, closed her eyes, and uttered Selenes missing words:
For many restless years I have kept the final chapter of my story locked inside my heart. I painted a romance using only bright colors. I sought to leave out the darkness, but as the colors of my life begin to fade, I must allow the narratory darkness in.
I must face what happened with the child
The last time I kissed Leander, we were sailing from the only home wed ever known. The ghost robot Ovid steered our ship. We had stolen it to help us. It was still empty, devoid of souls. We hoped Ovids absence might slow the Filling, that once we reached our destination, it might reveal how to defeat Atlas.
Leanders caress soothed me when skies darkened; his embrace reassured me when they wept a chilling rain. He kissed me nine times, and with each tender touch of his lips, my lover changed:
First came the lines around his smile.
Then his blond hair grew white.
His skin became papery, loose.
His embrace slackened weakly around my body.
His whisper became hoarse.
The need in his eyes dimmed.
His kiss lost its urgent lust.
His frame stooped in my arms.
After his last, weary kiss, he pointed to the woven basket he had carried onboard. I assumed it contained a nuptial cake, perhaps some ambrosial wine to toast our love.
Whats mine is yours, he said.
I lifted the baskets lid and heard the babes first cry.
This is my daughter, he said. She does not have a name.
When he had bid Delphine farewell, she presented the childthe child they shared. Leander could not bear to leave the infant with an evil mother, so he grabbed her and he ran. As he did so, Delphine cursed him:
He would age rapidly if he loved anyone but her.
The brew tasted so unexpectedly wonderfullike caramel hot chocolate thickened with creamand Eureka was so unfathomably thirsty, and that first swallow filled her body with such long-awaited warmth that she couldnt stop. She guzzled the rest before she knew what she had done. The witches beamed as she wiped her lips.
What a joy to see the old language again, Esme sang, flipping through the pages Eureka had given her with her eyes closed. Shall I begin at the beginning, which is never a beginning but is always in the middle of something already begun?
I already know some of the story, Eureka said. I had a translator at home.
Home? Esme lifted her chin. Her eyes were still closed, amethyst lids glittering.
In Louisiana, where I lived before I cried. She thought of Madame Blavatskys crimson lipstick, her tobacco-scented patchwork cloak and flock of lovebirds, her compassion when Eureka needed it most. My translator was very good.
Esmes painted lips pulled skeptically on her spiral pipe. Artemisia embers glowed. She opened her eyes. One would have to be from our home, from Atlantis, in order to read this text. Are you sure this translator did not feed you lies?
Eureka shook her head. She knew things she couldnt have known. She could read this, Im certain of it. I believe my mother could, too.
You mean to suggest that someone has been dipping our pure tongue in the filthy creeks of your world?
I dont know about that
What do you know? Esme interrupted.
Eureka closed her eyes and remembered the exhilaration shed felt when she first learned her ancestors story. I know Selene loved Leander. I know they had to flee Atlantis to be together. I know they boarded a ship the night before Selene was supposed to marry Atlas. I know Delphine was scorned when Leander chose Selene. She paused to survey the gossipwitches, who had never seemed so serious, so still. They were hanging on her words the way Eureka had hung on Madame Blavatskys, as if she were telling the old tale for the first time. And I know the last thing Selene saw when she sailed away were gossipwitches, who spoke the curse of her Tearline.
Her Tearline? Esme repeated with a strange lilt.
Yes, they prophesied that someday, one of Selenes descendants would cause the rise of Atlantis. It would be a girl born on a day that doesnt exist, a motherless child and childless mother whose emotions brew like a storm her whole life until she couldnt withstand them anymore. And she wept. Eureka swallowed. And flooded the world with her tears. Thats me. Im her.
So you dont know the most important part. With great care Esme smoothed the missing pages, held them up to the amethyst light. Do you remember where you left off with your imposter translator?
I remember. Eureka unzipped her bag and pulled out the plastic-sheathed book. She turned to a wrinkled page flagged with a green Abyssinian lovebird feather. She pointed at the bottom corner, where the text tapered off. Selene and Leander were separated in a shipwreck. They never saw each other again, but Selene saidEureka paused to remember her exact words The witches prophecy is the only lasting remnant of our love.
Your translator guessed correctly. We witches clearly are the stars of this story, but there is one other lasting remnant about which you should know. Esme held the parchment up to the light again, closed her eyes, and uttered Selenes missing words:
For many restless years I have kept the final chapter of my story locked inside my heart. I painted a romance using only bright colors. I sought to leave out the darkness, but as the colors of my life begin to fade, I must allow the narratory darkness in.
I must face what happened with the child
The last time I kissed Leander, we were sailing from the only home wed ever known. The ghost robot Ovid steered our ship. We had stolen it to help us. It was still empty, devoid of souls. We hoped Ovids absence might slow the Filling, that once we reached our destination, it might reveal how to defeat Atlas.
Leanders caress soothed me when skies darkened; his embrace reassured me when they wept a chilling rain. He kissed me nine times, and with each tender touch of his lips, my lover changed:
First came the lines around his smile.
Then his blond hair grew white.
His skin became papery, loose.
His embrace slackened weakly around my body.
His whisper became hoarse.
The need in his eyes dimmed.
His kiss lost its urgent lust.
His frame stooped in my arms.
After his last, weary kiss, he pointed to the woven basket he had carried onboard. I assumed it contained a nuptial cake, perhaps some ambrosial wine to toast our love.
Whats mine is yours, he said.
I lifted the baskets lid and heard the babes first cry.
This is my daughter, he said. She does not have a name.
When he had bid Delphine farewell, she presented the childthe child they shared. Leander could not bear to leave the infant with an evil mother, so he grabbed her and he ran. As he did so, Delphine cursed him:
He would age rapidly if he loved anyone but her.
