Chapter 13 Where Want Is Named
692 Words
The knocking did not come from outside the court.
That was the first lie Amihan had told herself.
It came from below.
Not the ground exactly, but the place where roots forgot which direction was down. A pressure rose through the marble-soft floor, not breaking it, but asking permission it no longer needed.
The attendants stiffened. Their smooth faces turned inward, expressions flickering for the first time.
Liraya’s smile thinned.
“Interesting,” she murmured.
Kisê clutched Amihan’s hand. “I don’t like interesting.”
The bell rang again. Not once, but three times. Each note lower than the last.
Amihan’s closet tightened. Her wanting surged, not reaching outward now, but recoiling, as if it recognized something it had been trying very hard not to remember.
“Liraya,” Amihan whispered. “What is that?”
Liraya did not look at her. “Something old,” she said carefully. “Something that believes you owe it.”
The floor darkened.
Not shadow. Absence.
A circle opened, perfectly smooth, as if the court had been cut away rather than broken. From it rose a figure that was not quite solid, it’s shape suggested more by what the air refused to occupy.
It had no face.
Only a suggestion of one, like bone remembered by fog.
The court bowed.
Not in reverence.
In recognition.
Amihan’s knees weakened.
“I know you,” she whispered.
The thing tilted its head.
You do, it said, not aloud, but directly into the space behind her eyes.
Kisê whimpered softly. “Amihan…?”
“This ,” Liraya said coolly, “is a Collector.”
The name rang with finality.
I am the Balance, the thing corrected. I am what remains when wanting is not spent.
Amihan shook her head. “I didn’t call you.”
You did, it replied gently. Every time you leaned forward instead of staying.
Tears burned her eyes. “I didn’t know.”
Children rarely do.
The Collector extend something like a hand. Within it flickered moments. Possibilities. Futures that never settled.
You were promised once, it said. By bone. By blood. By a father who knew the cost.
Liraya inhaled sharply.
“You were not meant to surface,” she said. “The forest buried you.
The forest delays, the Collector replied. I conclude.
Amihan felt it then.
Kael’s claim.
Not as protection.
As collateral.
Her chest caved in.
“He gave you me,” she whispered.
He gave me time, the Collector said. You are the remainder.
Kisê stepped forward, shaking. “You can’t have her.”
The Collector regarded her.
You are not part of the equation.
Kisê laughed weakly. “Story of my life.”
Amihan squeezed her hand once, then gently let go.
“Is this why the forest won’t release me?” Amihan asked. “Because you’re waiting?”
Because you are unfinished, it said. And unfinished things belong to me.
Liraya moved then, placing herself subtly between Amihan and the void.
“She is under my protection,” Liraya said.
The Collector turned toward her.
You refine, it said. I end.
For the first time, Liraya looked uncertain.
“What happens if you claim me?” Amihan asked quietly.
The Collector’s answer was immediate.
You stop wanting.
The words hollowed her.
“No,” she breathed. “That’s… that’s everything.”
Exactly.
Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Amihan’s tears fell freely now. Not fear. Grief.
“I don’t want to be finished,” she said. “I haven’t chosen anything yet.”
The Collector drifted closer. The air chilled.
The choose, it said. Or be chosen.
The court began to crack.
Fine lines spidered through the floor, the walls, the illusion of safety Liraya had so carefully curated.
Far away, like thunder heard through water, Amihan felt Silawán.
Straining.
Held back.
Still king.
Still unable to reach her.
The Collector extended its hand again.
Come, it said. Or I will take what anchors you until you cannot refuse.
Amihan closed her eyes.
And somewhere deep in the forest, something ancient and furious answered back.
- Writer
