Zenith's Smile

[Aisha's perspective]

The first thing I did every morning was go to Madam's room.

I pushed open the south-facing door, and sunlight streamed through the window, filling the room with warmth. A pot of bluebells sat on the windowsill. I had moved it inside from the yard the day before yesterday, and the blue petals had a hint of purple in the morning light.

Madam sat on the edge of the bed, her golden hair falling loose over her shoulders, her eyes fixed on the view outside. Just like yesterday, the day before, and every other day.

"Good morning, Madam Zenith."

She didn't respond. Her gaze didn't move, and her mouth didn't change.

I was used to it by now.

I wrung out a warm towel over the basin and wiped her face first, from her forehead to her chin, making sure not to miss a spot. Madam's skin was so pale that I could see the fine blood vessels beneath it. Then I wiped her hands, one finger at a time, including the spaces between them. Finally, I wiped her feet.

Mother Lilia taught me to be thorough when caring for someone, not to neglect a single spot from the strands of their hair to their toenails. Even though Madam can't speak, I think she can feel it.

I took a comb from the cabinet, went around behind her, and combed out her long hair, one lock at a time. Madam's hair was very soft, and the comb slid from root to tip without catching on a single tangle.

Mother's hair is wine-red, a little coarser and curlier. Madam's is golden, straight, and shiny. Both colors are beautiful. But I'm Mother's daughter, so my hair is the same as hers.

After combing her hair, I helped her change clothes, fastening the buttons one by one from her collar to her waist. Madam's body was very light, and her arms were limp when I lifted them, like a marionette's. I helped her to her feet and supported her as she walked, step by step, to sit in the chair by the window.

Outside, the leaves of the crooked tree swayed in the wind.

Madam's gaze shifted, following the leaves. The movement was slight and brief, but it had definitely moved.

That morning, I wheeled Madam into the yard to sit in the sun.

My brother had made the wheelchair. He had used earth magic to attach small wheels to the legs of a wooden chair, then added a backrest and footrests. It wasn't as finely made as the ones sold in stores, but it was convenient to use.

Mother had planted the flower bed in the yard. Bluebells, pinks, and some herbs whose names I didn't know. I took care of the daily watering and weeding because Mother had trouble with her legs and they hurt if she crouched too long.

I parked the wheelchair beside the flower bed. The sunlight fell on Madam's face, making her eyes look brighter.

I crouched down and pulled the weeds from the flower bed. When I reached the bluebells, I picked one as well. It was a tiny blue bell, its petals thin enough to let the light through.

"Madam, isn't it pretty?"

I held the flower out in front of her.

Madam's gaze fell on it and lingered for two seconds.

Then her right hand rose, slowly, slowly.

My breath stopped for a beat.

Her fingers touched the petals. It was a very light touch. Her fingertips rested on them for a second, and then her hand slowly lowered.

She's touching the flower. She just touched it. The last time was last week, and the time before that was the week before. It's always a bluebell. Is it because of the color, or the shape, or... did she used to like these flowers?

I tucked the flower into a gap in her wheelchair's armrest. Its blue petals trembled slightly in the sunlight.

The corners of Madam's mouth curved.

If I hadn't watched her face every day, I never would have noticed.

That afternoon, Norn came to the room to read Madam a storybook.

Norn was born a few minutes before me, so she was my older sister. But sometimes I felt like she was younger than me. She spoke slowly, did things slowly, and thought slowly too. But her reading voice was lovely, soft and gentle.

"Once upon a time, there was a magician who lived at the end of the world. He had a very, very big book, and in it were written everyone's names..."

Norn sat on a low stool beside the bed, holding the book in both hands as she read every word. Madam sat in her chair, staring straight ahead.

I folded the freshly washed clothes nearby. For every piece I folded, I glanced at Madam.

When Norn reached the third page, Madam's gaze moved.

Her eyes followed Norn's fingers as she turned the pages. From left to right, then from right to left.

"Sister."

"Hm?"

"Madam was just watching you turn the pages."

Norn looked up at Madam. Madam's gaze had already returned to the space in front of her, empty again, as though she couldn't see anything.

"...Mother?" Norn's voice trembled a little.

There was no response.

Norn lowered her head, closed the book, and set it on her lap. Her fingers tightened around the cover.

"Mother heard me," Norn said softly. "She must have heard me."

I didn't answer, because I wasn't sure.

But I hoped she was right.

Father came in that evening.

He had just returned from the yard, with bits of grass and specks of mud clinging to his clothes. He carried an old wooden sword in his right hand, so he had probably just finished teaching Norn swordsmanship. The sweat on his face hadn't dried yet, but the moment he stepped inside and saw Madam, his pace slowed.

Father Paul pushed the door open with his right hand, his empty left sleeve brushing against the doorframe. He walked over to Madam and crouched down so his eyes were level with hers.

"Zenith."

There was no response.

"The weather was nice today. The flowers in the yard have bloomed."

"Aisha's taking good care of you. You don't have to worry."

There was no response.

Father reached out and took Madam's hand, which rested on her lap, in his right hand. His palm was large, his knuckles were callused, and there was an old scar in the web between his thumb and forefinger.

"I'll find a way, no matter how long it takes."

His hand trembled as he said it.

Madam's fingers moved.

Her fingers tightened slightly, as though trying to return a hand's grasp.

It lasted only a moment. Then her fingers loosened and went limp and weak again.

But Father had felt it.

His eyes reddened.

He sprang to his feet, turned away, and covered his face with his right hand. His shoulders shook twice.

"...Father?"

"I'm all right." His voice came muffled from behind his palm. "I'm all right. It's just... the wind's too strong."

There was no wind in the yard, and the window was closed.

I didn't call him out on it.

That night, I sat in my room writing in my diary.

Candlelight danced across the page. Insects chirped outside the window. From the next room came the sound of Norn turning over in bed. She was probably thinking about what had happened today too.

The whole family had eaten dinner together. My brother and sister-in-law hadn't come home yet; they had probably gone out around Sharia again. Mother had made fried meat and black bread, and they tasted as good as ever. Father had eaten quickly, tearing the bread into small pieces with his right hand and stuffing them into his mouth, leaving grease on his lips. After he finished, he went to Madam Zenith's room, and I followed him.

Now it was just me and this diary.

I picked up my pen.

(Madam touched a flower with her fingertips. She smiled.)

After writing that, my pen stopped.

Madam isn't my mother. My mother is Lilia. But Madam is my brother's mother, and Sister Norn's mother. She's the most important person in this family. She was trapped in there for four years, and after she was rescued, she became like this. But she's getting better. Very, very slowly, but she really is getting better.

I went on writing.

(I'm going to get stronger, strong enough to pull Madam out of her dream.)

After writing that sentence, I watched the ink slowly dry on the page.

Medicine, magic, whatever it takes-as long as I can bring Madam back, I'm willing to do anything, even if it takes my whole life, even if I have to go to the end of the world.

I closed my diary and tucked it under my pillow.

I blew out the candle. In the darkness, I lay with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

Moonlight shone through the window, painting a white square on the floor.

Madam, wait for me. I'll find a way. I promise.