Chapter 11: The Breaking Point

     Tears came to her eyes as the sweet memory flooded her mind while she plucked leaves from the bitter fire plant. It had flourished and grown to the point where she repeatedly had to transplant its offspring into extra pots over the years since that day. It had taken three years of preparation, acquiring the money and supplies and building their house, before they had left the homes of their childhood for good and made a new home with each other. And though it had been hard to leave everything and everyone she knew, though there had been some bitterness, she had never regretted it. To her, like the healing leaves in her hands, it was worth it.
     She broke down and began weeping bitterly, her knees folded under her body and her face in her arms on the floor. She crawled to the nearest window and pulled herself up onto her knees, searching the night sky with blurry eyes flowing with tears like a raging river whose dam had fallen apart. She saw plenty of blurred stars, but the moon was nowhere to be seen. Then she remembered that it was the time of the new moon and therefore the moon was invisible. But that explanation did not console her at this time when she felt alone and forsaken by the gods who remained out of sight when she needed them most.
     "Why is this happening?" she sobbed in whispered tones, "Why are you taking him away? I tried, Gadriel - I tried to be worthy of your gift, to be everything a good man deserves. I gave him myself and all the love I had, but it wasn't enough. It's enough to break my heart, but not enough to save him - just not enough," she whimpered, clutching at her chest, where the weight was so heavy it physically hurt.
     "You gave him to me to love and nurture, and I can't even keep him alive! And now it's like my heart's dying with him. But I can't break because I have to raise these children, and I'll have to do it alone. I might not've brought them into the world if I'd known they would have to suffer this. I love them so much - even this one already," she sniffled, stroking her belly. "I know I'll have to be strong. They're helpless and they need that from me. But I feel like a helpless child myself and I don't know what to do! I don't want to live without my man, and I don't want my little ones to live without him either," she cried, "I just wanted them to have the father I didn't!" She buried her face in her arms and convulsed with sobs.
     After a while she caught her breath. "I know you know what's best," she prayed, barely lifting her head again, "I know I can't place the stars in the sky and only you know where they belong. So I don't know if it makes any difference what I want. But if it does," she breathed, "I just want him to live." For a moment the burden on her chest was lifted and she felt that this hope was possible. For a few seconds she imagined he could live and she felt secure. But then the overwhelming reality of his dire condition came crashing down on her again, crushing what little hope she had left. It was like all the life was sucked out of her, and she had no more tears to cry.
     That's when she heard the small footsteps in the silence, slowly coming up the stairs into the sky room. "But your will be done," she whispered, wiping her eyes with her sleeves and clearing her throat. It was time to recompose herself, be strong again for Viggo.
     "Mama?" It was a whimper and it broke her heart.
     "What is it, Viggo?" she asked.
     "I'm tired," he whined.
     You and me both, she thought. "Well let's get you back to bed then, alright? I'll come with you."
     "But I can't sleep," he said shakily.
     "You can go to bed with me," she answered, "but I have to make this tea first. So you can get in bed before me with just Dad and I'll come soon."
     "Okay," he said weakly, letting her take his hand with her free hand while she held leaves in the other and began to escort him out of the sky room. "Is Dad better?" he asked.
     She wondered what the gods expected her to tell her son, when she had no reason to hope his father would live. The boy was so sad already. She didn't want to lie to him or crush him with the truth, and it seemed those were the only options. But then she thought that maybe she could redirect his mind. "I think he would like it if you stay with him tonight," she said, reaching their bedroom, "And if you still can't sleep, you can sing for him. I think he would like that."
     He let go of her hand and climbed onto the middle of the bed, snuggling into his dad. Epifany smiled and turned around to leave the room, letting the tear slip past her eye only after she was out of sight. Please don't tear apart this family, she thought, please let us stay together. She made her way to the kitchen and started boiling the water for Hapak's tea, then sat on the floor while she waited. Soon she heard Hapak coughing. Sounds like he's awake, she thought. Maybe he'll be ready to drink this when it's done.
     "How do you feel, Daddy?" said a sweet little voice from the bedroom. It was the same question she had asked people on a number of occasions when treating them. Apparently the little man had picked up her line.
     "I feel tired," Hapak answered. It was the voice she'd been longing to hear, only it was hoarse and weak. Dying.
     "It's okay," Viggo consoled him, "I'll sing a song, to help you sleep."
     And soon he went on to sing:

"Little light in the night,

Show our world the way home,

Show us that it can be done -

Live the way of life."

     It was the song his parents had sung to him as a lullaby since he was a baby. It was a mysterious passage from the Legends, and one of Epifany's favorites. It had been sung at leeligh before too, but she'd never heard him sing it all by himself. Peace enveloped her like soft moonlight, though there was no moon to glow and it seemed there could be no peace. But there was a little in her heart, as he continued:

"Like a spark in the dark,

Set aflame our lamps that died,

Keep our dying ones alive,

Melt our frozen hearts."

     Tears slowly dripped down Epifany's cheeks as she sat leaning her back against the cupboard. There was a pause, then she faintly heard Viggo's whisper: "I forgetted the words."
     Hapak whispered even more faintly, "Until we all shall do our part - remember?"
     Epifany smiled, but didn't hear so much as a giggle from Viggo. No, this was serious. She stood up and crept to the bedroom doorway as he continued singing his dad to sleep - or thinking that was what he was doing anyway.

"Until we all shall do our part,

And our whole family shall rise -

Above the hatred, above the lies,

To overcome all darkness -

Be our witness."

     "Thanks little guy," Hapak whispered, "I think we can both sleep now. Here," he moved his arm to let Viggo in closer, then wrapped him in it.

     Epifany crept back to the kitchen with a bittersweet ache in her heart. She had done and was doing everything she could to keep Hapak alive, but ultimately it was not in her control. And for the first time since the fateful snake bite two weeks earlier, she felt resigned to the fact. Now she felt the best thing to do was to make the most of the time they all had left together.

     After a while the tea was done and she took it to the bedroom, where father and son both seemed to be asleep. She set the tea down next to his side of the bed, and was turning to go around to her side when the hoarse voice stopped her. "Pif?"

     "Yes dear?" she answered softly, so as not to wake Viggo.

     "You're really amazing, you know that?" he coughed.

     She knelt by the bed and felt his forehead with her hand. "You're burning up," she said, picking up a cloth and dipping it in a small bucket of water that had been cool when it was first drawn from the well. Now it was warmish, but not nearly as hot as him. So she squeezed out the excess water and laid the cloth on his forehead. "You need your tea now. I'm sure you're dehydrated."

     "No, but really, you are amazing," he went on, "I'll take my tea, but not until I've said my piece."

     "Well say on then," she answered, taking his hand and kissing it, "I'm listening."

     He yawned, then coughed for a while, and spoke weakly, "I know I haven't been easy on you all the time, and I'm sorry for some things I've said. I've been in a lot of pain, and I didn't mean to hurt you." He coughed again.

     "No, honey, don't worry about it," she said, still holding his hand in hers, and wiping his forehead with the other. "I know what pain can do to a person."

     "But that's the thing," he continued, clearing his throat, "No matter what you're dealing with, you don't lash out. And you don't complain. It's not just now. I mean all along. You came with me all the way here without question and without looking back, and not only have you put up with me, but you've really loved me. You've always been better than I deserve, Pif." He looked up at the ceiling and said, "I don't know why I was such a lucky fish." And with that, he chuckled to himself and seemed to drift away into his own world.
     He's delirious again, isn't he? she thought to herself. He grinned and looked at her again. She smiled at him.
     "You have the most beautiful smile, Pif," he returned to his piece, "I love you so much. And you probably think I've lost my mind. But it's all true. There never could've been anyone for me but you. I am the luckiest guy, even if I have to go through all this to make it fair that you're mine. And I got the most wonderful mother for my son here, and my little girl."
     Epifany didn't know how to respond to this "piece" of his, so she just stayed where she was, listening.
     "Maybe we should call her Grace," he continued, "The gods have been so gracious to me."
     It settled upon her now that this was the last opportunity for him to have a say in choosing their child's name. "I know I always said we were having a girl," she said, "but do you have a boy name in mind just in case?"
     "That won't be necessary," he answered, "You're usually right. She's a little girl."
     Usually right? It felt good to hear him say that, but she wasn't sure how true it was. And indeed she still felt in her heart that she was carrying their daughter. I just wish she could know her father, she thought to herself, her eyes falling with sadness.
     With effort, he turned his face to her again in the silence and noticed her downcast expression in the dim light from the lamp. "Hey," he said softly, "look at me."
     With tears beginning to trickle down her face, she lifted her eyes again to meet his, wondering if it was the last time she would look into those wild eyes.
     "I know," he whispered, squeezing her hand weakly, "I know." He paused a moment before going on, "The serpent that bit me doesn't leave survivors. Nobody lives this long after meeting its fangs. You've kept me above the waves for this long, but my time has almost come, and I will go under." The pair always did enjoy using eloquent language, though secretly, for Epifany, it was sometimes solely for the purpose of making fun of Hapak's formal way of speaking. From time to time she found his fancy talk annoying, particularly when he was confusing her instead of getting to the point. But overall, it was at worst amusing to her, a trademark of their quirky relationship and a unique piece of the puzzle that was the man she loved. She gripped his hand and struggled to stay awake.
     "Don't worry about me anymore," he went on, "I will only sleep the sleep of death, until Gadriel wakes me to reunite us in silver light. My path is easy now; it is you who must go on, and it pains my heart to think of you sorrowing for me."
     Groggily he continued, "Without thought for yourself you came here, and you have given over four years of your life to serve the people of this land. But I never asked you to come alone, nor do I believe the gods did. So when I am gone, I don't want you running yourself ragged here. It would be a hard life on your own." He yawned, his heavy eyes refusing to stay open for more than a few seconds at a time. "I want you to go home where you will have family to love and support you and our children."
     With that said, he became so still that Epifany checked his pulse before feeling sure he was alive. Then she weakly made her way to the other side of the bed and crawled in, scooting next to Viggo and reaching over him to touch her hand to Hapak's chest. And there it rested, feeling every beat of his heart as she fell fast asleep.
     When she awoke, the sun had climbed to the middle of the sky already. Hapak was still very hot and along with Viggo, very much asleep. Epifany felt dazed herself, still tired despite having slept past noon, but she rose to meet the routine of the past couple weeks. Rune could be heard in the kitchen doing some of the usual morning chores. Epifany picked up the bucket of warm water from beside the bed and went to retrieve fresh, cold water from the well.
     Soon Viggo raced outside, looking confused and saying, "Dad wants you to come. He said hurry."
     She left the bucket and ran to the house as fast as she could, not wanting to miss any of her final moments with him. To her surprise, she found he had propped himself up slightly. "There you are!" his voice was still hoarse and she had time to feel his forehead while he coughed before continuing, "I'm starving! Is breakfast ready yet?"
     "Your fever's broken!" she exclaimed in confusion.
     "That's nice," he said, "when are you gonna break my fast? I've hardly eaten all month!"
     She burst into joyous laughter, planting a kiss on his forehead and running to get Viggo and Rune - and, of course, breakfast.