When there was nothing else to mend He simply gazed at it, felt its atoms circulating and combining or simply shivering in place, and He subsided into a grand peace.
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He looked at His work, watched it tick and turn like a great watch, here and there smoothing a rough edge or roughening a smooth one, slowing a torrent or urging on a tide, till all was in balance. Then He placed it back on its eternal track and set it going in its orbit again. He took the sun itself in His great cupped hands, pressing and molding it back into a sphere, feeling its fading heat. He filled in the great crater that the sun had burned in the ocean floor, and He cooled the sea, and rebuilt and remortared the wall that ran around the edge of the world. One by one He rehung the stars like the crystals of a chandelier. The moon He lovingly polished and set spinning again. The ground above Them became green, and two enormous trees grew over Their graves, their branches spiraling curiously like rams’ horns. He picked up the bodies of Ember and Umber with tender care and buried Them where They could decompose and enrich the soil around them. He spent a long time-years, maybe centuries-setting the seas to beating at the shore again, and nursing the water cycle into some kind of stable functioning state. He set the delicate green carpet of grass that covered Fillory to regrowing, and restored some of the trees, stepping them like the masts of ships, not all, but enough that they could reseed the forests. He rounded up the escaped dead and returned them to their gymnasium Hell and then, feeling divinely troubled by their plight, He bade them sleep, peacefully and forever. He bade the great turtle return to its place in the tower of turtles that held up Fillory, and take up its burden again, and it did-it really wasn’t suited for a more active lifestyle anyway.
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Those animals and humans who had died in the apocalypse He allowed to rest where they were, but He moved among the survivors, healing them, rebuilding damaged organs, repairing and resewing skin and bones. The last rotting remnants of the Muntjac, scattered in the shallows of the far Eastern Ocean.
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The head of the arrow that killed Benedict. The pistol Janet had brought into Fillory and then dropped on her way out of Ember’s Tomb.
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The fragments of the Watcherwoman’s shattered watch, which had been trodden into the earth over the years and dispersed and forgotten. The bones of the gentle bay He rode when He left the centaurs. He swept up the air and the winds and heaped them up in invisible masses above Fillory so that the land could breathe again.Īs He worked He rolled and sifted between His divine fingertips the remains of various objects He remembered from His human life. He rethreaded Fillory’s silver rivers and streams, or where it pleased Him He allowed them to find new paths, and He gently shepherded the shattered lakes and seas back into their basins. The dirt of Fillory was marbled like a great side of beef, and He took pains to position its veins of ore so that they lined up just as they once had.