#sbk1

Marm came to collect him around noon, her mood as bright as the sun. “Avid! I’m so happy you decided to come today.” She wore an elaborate outfit of reds and greens and browns, clothing he hadn’t seen her wear before. Climbing up her wrists were numerous bracelets made of twisting vines and dried flowers, beads carved of mangrove and oak and jungle and cherry. Around her neck were several necklaces, fashioned with dried, braided vines; each was decorated with a single pendant of carved and polished mangrove. Avid felt completely underdressed in comparison (even though she’d assured him weeks ago that he didn’t need to worry about dressing up). Marm reached out to link her arm through his, holding him close against her side. Her presence was a balm, and he let himself melt against her, tail curling around her ankle.

“Yeah,” he said, as she began to lead him down the skybridge toward Mangrove. “It’ll be good for me, I think. You know, to… see it for myself.”

She squeezed his arm and sent him a bright smile. “It will.”

Avid could tell they were close to Mangrove when the wooden path fell away, replaced by floating islands of stone and moss. He hesitated, sent a glance at Marm; she squeezed his arm and gave him a nudge. “First test of the day! Can you make it across?”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “'Can I make it across?' Of course I can make it across. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“Avid,” she answered brightly.

“Exactly. Okay. Here goes!” Avid released her arm, swallowing around a lump in his throat. Then, with the agility gleaned from so much practice, and so long existing in the form of a monkey, he leapt from the skybridge to the first island.

He jumped from island to island with grace and precision, Marm’s footsteps close behind him. Where before, the feeling of his body suspended over the void had been cause for cold, gripping fear, now all he felt was weightlessness, freedom.

It wasn’t much longer that the chatter hit his ears. People from kingdoms near and far had made the trek just to be here for today’s celebrations. Through the sprawling mangrove trees, Avid could see flashes of the gathered crowd: people dressed in bright colors, in roughspun fabrics, in casual, everyday wear. He paused on one of the larger islands, staring ahead in apprehension. Marm landed beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t need to worry,” she assured him. “Every year, there are new people who come to worship the Void. You’re far from the only one who hasn’t participated before.”

“True.” He felt for the carved wood in his pocket. “But I am the only one who’s been the most… vocally against this kind of thing.”

“And now you know better. You’ve changed your ways.” Her hand slipped down from his shoulder and into his own hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze, infusing him with warmth that raced up his arm and spread through his chest. “No one will hold it against you.”

“Yeah.” Avid let the warmth blossom into bravery, blossom into affection and gratitude. He squeezed back, dropped her hand. “Yeah, you’re right. Come on. Race you there!”

He leapt forward without waiting for a confirmation, laughed at the surprised squawk she let out. Marm caught up fast, her hair and clothing whipping in the wind she created with her speed. Avid pushed himself faster, feet pressing against the springy moss as the mangrove trees and crowds beyond grew closer.

And, with one final push, he was in the Mangrove Kingdom. The air here was thick and humid, much like in the jungle, but with a more… earthy tone. There were tents and stalls set up all along the path today, merchants hawking wares and frying foods. The atmosphere was properly festive, and that was, for some reason, surprising to him.

Marmalade hit the dirt only a split second after him, and she slammed the palms of her hands into his back, making him stumble forward. “You jerk,” she laughed. “That was not a proper race. I demand a rematch in the future.”

“Absolutely. You know I can’t say no to that.” He shot her a grin, forcing back the apprehension that continued to well up inside him. “Now! What’s on the agenda?”

“Well, first you have to peruse the festival market!” Her hand slipped into his again, and she pulled him toward the crowd. “Come on, I’ve been dying to try those samosas since I saw them setting up!”

And, for a while, Avid nearly forgot exactly what this holiday was for. He let himself relax, let himself enjoy the atmosphere and spending time with Marm in the middle of the crowd. He had thought that a festival like this, something dedicated to the Void, would be more somber. But maybe he should have known better. After all, Marmalade herself was dedicated to the Void, and she was far from somber.

They ate, they drank, they stopped to watch musicians and other performers, they even danced a little. As the sun began to set, bathing the world in golden light and painting the sky in shades of pink and orange and blue, Avid found himself growing tired. The pleasant sort of tired, the sort of tired that came from a day well-spent, the sort of tired that made you want to fall into bed and curl up under the blankets.

Of course, the holiday wasn’t over yet.

Marm took both of his hands in hers and squeezed. “Wait here,” she said to him. “I’ll be back.” She turned and left, weaving through the crowd, and Avid watched her go. Anticipation rose, climbing up his throat and dissipating the pleasant fog in his brain. His hand went to his pocket again, wrapping around the bit of jungle wood there. He was ready. He could do this.

When he saw Marmalade again, she was standing on a stage, little more than a silhouette against the setting sun behind her. “The day is ending,” she called, and the chatter of the crowd surrounding them fell into a hush. “The sun sinks down, giving itself to the Void, as it does each and every day. Today, we follow its example. Everyone! Please gather around the ring in the center of the island. Together, we will give our gifts to the Void. Together, we will gift ourselves to the Void.”

A cheer rose up, and the crowd began to surge forward, following her directions. Avid fought against the desire to go with the flow and let himself be swept away; he’d been told to wait for Marm, and so he would.

She found him again, and this time he took her hand. “Are you ready, Avid?” she asked. “You don’t have to go all the way; most people won’t.”

“I know I don’t,” he assured her. The anticipation and apprehension twisted and twined in his stomach, his chest, his throat. His heart was fluttering behind his ribs. But still. Avid had made up his mind. “But, I want to. I want to do this. I want to prove—prove to myself—that I can do this. That the Void is—that this is a good thing.”

She beamed at him. “Alright, then. Let’s go!”

They hurried through the crowd, pushing their way forward until they stood at the very edge of the ring in the center of the island. Avid stared down into it, into the nothingness of the void below. He swallowed, squeezed his eyes shut. This was a good thing. This was a good thing! What had happened before was a fluke. A terrible, horrible thing, but a fluke nonetheless. By doing this, he would be helping to prevent that from happening to anyone else ever again. His tail wrapped around his ankle, and he opened his eyes again. Squeezed Marm’s hand.

All around the ring, people were throwing things into the void. Jewelry, hats, toys, books. People were laughing and cheering and singing. Avid’s hand closed around the wood in his pocket, and this time, he withdrew it. A little wooden monkey, no longer than his pinkie finger. He’d carved it himself, had sanded and polished it until it shone. He didn’t know why he’d chosen a monkey, except that it fit well with the jungle motif. He didn’t want to think about any other reasons, anything else it might represent.

He lifted his hand, stretched it out over the void. And then he let the wooden monkey drop, watched it tumble end over end into the nothingness below, flickering in the dimming light, until it fell out of sight.

Marmalade dropped his hand. Her arm wrapped itself around his shoulders. “I’m proud of you,” she said, mouth close to his ear. “You can stop here, if you want. You can still change your mind.”

“I won’t. I’m ready.”

“Okay.” Marmalade smiled at him, and shifted her stance. One hand on his waist, the other clasped with his. Their hands were held out over the edge of the ring, hovering over open space. “Then here we go.”

She led him in a dance. One step forward, one step back. Her eyes were trained on his, sparkling and shining in the fading light of the sun. He could see the pride there, the love. He could feel the apprehension fading away, falling to the back of his mind as he let her lead him. Another step, and then one to the side, and—

They were falling.

Avid had fallen hundreds of times before. He knew what it was to be weightless, to have that certainty of death and nothingness fill you. He knew the fear, the terror, the dismay.

Falling had never felt like this.