Heather split's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

Heather drove the last two miles with the board rolled up on the back seat. She meant to hand the prophecy to Bella and step out of the way. Then the board grew warm again through the fabric. She pulled into Bella's drive and parked. The marker was already tapping against the inside of the roll when she unwrapped it on the hood of the car. The ink came fast this time. The passing is close. The hands will change before the next full moon. Name them by then or the seat sits empty. Heather read it twice. She understood. Bella's role as time-keeper was ending soon, and the two girls holding time between them had to be named out loud, by her, before the moon turned. She counted days on her fingers. Eleven. Maybe twelve. She carried the board inside. Bella was at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. Goldie sat across from her in a white coat, hair pulled back. Sierra was on the counter, swinging her boots, green hood down. Heather set the board flat on the table so all of them could see. Bella read it without moving her cup. Goldie read it and set her hands on the wood. Sierra hopped down and stood at her sister's shoulder. "Eleven days," Heather said. "I have to name them before the moon. Out loud. To you." She looked at Bella. Bella nodded once. "Then name them," Bella said. Heather's throat closed for a second. She had spent years keeping her own three off lists like this. Naming someone else's children felt like signing a paper she could not take back. She looked at Goldie. She looked at Sierra. She said their names. "Goldie Cylendar and Sierra Cylendar. The two who hold time." The board took the words. A line of ink crossed under the prophecy and stayed. Goldie did not smile. "Alright," she said. Sierra put a hand on Goldie's arm and left it there. Bella set her cup down. "Silver next," she said. "When she comes through the door. Not before." Heather agreed. Silver was already the ruler in practice; the naming would be a formality by the time she arrived. But the two by the time were done. The prophecy had a signature on it now, and the signature was Heather's voice. Her phone buzzed on the table. Thursday. Cyndi's day. Heather looked at the screen, then at Goldie, who had just been named across a line her mother could not cross. She did not answer. The phone rang out. Bella watched her do it and said nothing. Heather understood what she had traded. She had named Cyndi's daughters into a role Cyndi had been rejected from, and she had let a Thursday pass without picking up. The line between her sisters was no longer open on both ends. She had chosen a side by speaking.