Unraveling

by Sara Ella

  The boat rocks one way, then the other. It’s impossible not to lean against the person beside me for support, who just so happens to be Ebony. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, because she leans into me too.

  Flint and Streak grab oars and row toward the stone stairs. Heave, lift, slap. Heave, lift, slap.

  I should be terrified of what lies beneath those steps. But, strangely, a little thrill jolts through me the closer we get. Ky said they need me. Whatever we find in the Fourth, or wherever, we’ll find it together.

  Seawater sloshes into the boat as the weather awakens. Clouds swirl and lightning blinks beyond the gray, though I can’t hear thunder above my pounding heart. My seat is now soaked, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll be sopping in a minute anyway. The stairs aren’t for walking down. They’re simply a swimmer’s guide. In a larger body of water like this, I imagine it’d be easy to go off course once beneath the surface.

  It takes longer than I expect to reach the stone arch. The air isn’t cold, but the water saturating my clothes makes it seem colder than it is. At least I changed into a hoodie and jeans. Not as if it makes much difference. Wet is wet, dress or not.

  We pass beneath the arch, and the boat dips down a mini waterfall, the air shifting around us. I breathe in, relaxed by the scent of wood smoke drifting on the night air. I’m suddenly warm again. And dry. Blink, blink. Gasp. A hurricane-ready sky no longer looms above. Instead, thousands of twinkling stars dome the atmosphere, dot a Yankee-blue sky.

  Joshua would love this, and not just because the sky’s color is reminiscent of his favorite baseball team. He loves stars. As long as I’ve known him, his gaze has never failed to drift skyward at night.

  What would it have been like to be raised in the Second with him? Would we have played music on top of his trome back at the Haven, rather than on the roof of my Manhattan brownstone? What if our lives hadn’t been so complicated? What if he hadn’t kissed me as a baby? Would we still—somehow, someday—have fallen in love?

  And it’s that single question that makes me realize, no matter what, I will always care deeply for Joshua. Choice or not, a part of me will forever belong to him. Nothing can change this simple truth. It’s as set in stone as Excalibur was.

  “Until the right person came along and removed it.”

  I sweep my gaze diagonally across the boat, toward Ky. His right arm circles his sister’s shoulders, but he’s not looking at her. He’s looking at me. A frown draws his entire face, from eyebrows to lips.

  My heart wrenches. Why does this have to be so hard?

  His gaze lowers, eyelashes that shouldn’t belong to a boy brushing the tops of his cheeks.

  I long to know what he’s thinking. And I can, if I really desire it. For the first time I will his thoughts to be heard without him sending them toward me. I focus. Listen.

  Ky grins at his knees. His thoughts become clear.

  And. Now. I’m. Blushing.

  You thought that on purpose. I’m scolding him, but also not.

  He shrugs. “Can’t help it, Em. It’s only natural to want to—”

  I cover my mind’s ears. Stop. Don’t go there.

  “As you wish.”

  Sigh. My favorite line from The Princess Bride.

  Wait, no. Stop. Not now. I will not think of Ky as Westley. I will not think of Ky as—

  The boat bumps the stairs, and the invisible link between us vanishes. Streak heaves a coil of thick rope over the boat’s edge and loops it around the top step. He leans back, pulls the rope tight, and nods toward Tide.

  The boat rocks as Tide rises and leaps into the water. He dives out of view for a full minute before reemerging. When he does, I’m smiling, reminded of Kuna once more. Tide’s a Mask, and a water creature at that. I shake my head at the dolphin and think of Stormy. She should be here. My heart aches for my best friend. I wish I could’ve brought her with me. Is she back to her old, spunky self? I hope so.

  Ky moves to follow Tide, but Flint stops him. “I’ll go first. Better a pilot captured than a captain. Just in case.”

  It looks as if Ky might protest, but Flint stares him down. After a second Ky leans back and Flint jumps in the water, grabs hold of Tide’s dorsal fin. They dive together while we wait. Ky doesn’t look my way again, and no one else makes eye contact either. Everyone is on edge. I feel it in the tension of Ebony’s shoulder against mine, in the awkward, deafening silence.

  Several minutes later, Tide returns with a thumbs-up. He takes Sam—er, Gunner—down next. Then Charley, followed by Ebony. Member by member, the boat empties. A few are people I’ve seen around the ship but don’t know by name. In the end only Streak, Ky, Khloe, and I are left. Ky is next, but before he enters the water he locks eyes with mine and thinks, “See you on the other side.”

  See you, is all I can think. Why is my stomach in knots?

  When he’s gone, I begin counting in my head. So far the longest it’s taken Tide to make a round trip has been four minutes and thirty-nine seconds.

  At two minutes I take a deep breath. Still plenty of time.

  At three minutes I lean forward, peer over the boat’s edge. Khloe mirrors my move.

  At four minutes I swallow. Where are they?

  When we hit the five-minute mark, I glance between Khloe and Streak. The way he flexes his jaw tells me he’s nervous too. Khloe, whose faith in her brother could move mountains, even shows worry in the tightness framing her brown eyes.

  Then a sensation like a punch to the gut brings me to my knees. My face feels as if it’s been pummeled and the skin at my neck stings. My sudden agony is the first sign something is wrong. Because the pain is not my own. It belongs to him, but we’re separated by Reflections. Again.

  Six minutes. Seven. Eight.

  Tide does not return.

  ACT III

  I See the Light

  THIRTY-TWO

  The Fog Has Lifted

  Khloe peers farther over the boat’s edge. Streak moves. I rise.

  The shift in gravity registers first, not externally but internally. It’s similar to the feeling I had the first time I stepped through my own reflection. A distinct change only I would notice. Quickened pulse. Heightened awareness expanding to all five senses. Lyrics to a song I haven’t heard in forever play in my mind’s forefront. I never thought Zedd’s “Clarity” made much sense, but now I wonder if the DJ-turned-record producer was on to something.

  Because for every tragedy or crisis, every obstacle or barrier, there’s been one remedy, one thing—one person—who’s given me utter and complete clarity. Joshua’s calming was instant, but never lasted. And Ky? He’s “the piece of me I wish I didn’t need.” But I do, and I won’t lose him. Again.

  And just like that, the fog clouding my brain lifts.

  The boat knock, knock, knocks against the top of the stairs. Streak straddles a bench, loosening us, readying to row back to the Seven Seas. Frizzing dreads slap his face, and his biceps flex as he heaves the rope into the boat. Grunt. Thunk. He’s a silver screen pirate incarnate, from his tattoo sleeves to his yellowed teeth. But I’m not afraid of him. No, there are far worse things to fear. Like insignificance. Or having the opportunity to act and not seizing it.

  “Brave girl. My brave, brave girl.” The pride in Mom’s voice carries on her words remembered.

  A grin surfaces in response to the Scrib within—to the memory I recognize as part of my Calling. I always saw Mom as perfect and porcelain, but perhaps I’m more like her than I believed. Her words are etched onto my soul. And no matter where she is, I’m certain she’d still want me to be brave. To do whatever I can to help the others.

  Khloe picks her way toward me, distracting me from the silent conversation. My gaze attends her, but my heart listens for Ky.

  When she reaches me, she folds her arms and without pretense asks, “What’s the plan, El?”

  Good question. I press my forefingers to my temples and close my eyes. Ky believes in me. He’s saved me
time and time again. Now it’s my turn. But how can we make it through the Threshold without drowning? Tide was our one-way bullet train into the Fourth. The shallow waters of The Pond, or even the lagoon beneath the subway, were one thing. But the ocean’s bed is miles down. We’d die before reaching the bottom, let alone the other side. I’ve never been there and without Ky’s hand in mine, I can’t mirror walk my way in.

  “Khloe can help.”

  My lashes snap skyward. I don’t even flinch at Ky’s direction. His voice in my head is as second nature as singing used to be. I look to Khloe.

  Her brown eyes twinkle. “So it’s real.” Not a question. A confirmation.

  My head tilts.

  “And here I thought it was only a theory.” She laughs.

  Did I miss the joke? I glance over her shoulder. Streak rows, puffing through pursed lips. We’re nearing the stone arch. Beyond the opening, a storm batters the main ship. Loose sails flap and snap. Someone I can’t identify waves his arms wildly from the deck.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” she says. “I saw your expression just now. I’ve been watching you on the ship too. You shared a Kiss of Infinity with my brother. The connection between you is real.” Khloe’s words release in a rush. She loses balance and I grab her elbow to steady her.

  I move my lips, though no sound emerges, hoping she can read them. What’s. Your. Calling?

  She leans in, peering at Streak, then back at me. “Watch.” She takes my hand, yanks hard.

  Streak shouting, “Stop, lasses!” is the last sound I hear before my ears flood. The frigid water smashes into me like hundreds of bee stings pelting my body. I claw for the surface, but an unseen weight drags me deeper.

  Wham! My head meets something solid. The boat’s side? A rock? I’m abruptly reminded of where I am. I gasp for air, but invite a mouthful of ocean instead. The salty water stings my nose and throat, burns as it fills my lungs. I feel my head, but it’s impossible to decipher if my hair is damp with blood or water. What was Khloe thinking?

  And where is she?

  “Stop. Wait.”

  Ky’s voice is my only reassurance. I’m blind. And dizzy. Spots dance before my waterlogged eyes. The pressure on my lungs is too much. I. Need. Oxygen.

  But then, just as quickly as it began, the pain eases. I’m no longer choking, and somehow I can breathe, though it feels unnatural. Heavy. As if I’m constantly drinking but never feeling the need to stop and inhale.

  This makes no sense. I’m still underwater. I shouldn’t be able to—A hand tugs on mine. My head whips left. My heart swells at the sight of Khloe. She’s okay and she’s . . . smiling? She’s—

  Khloe. Has. Gills.

  I touch my neck. Gasp. Bubbles rise.

  I have gills too. How is this possible?

  My question will have to wait. Our hands release and we swim freely, but together. Keep close to the descending stone steps, using them as a guide. And then, there it is, the pinprick of green light alerting us to the Threshold’s opening. It’s faint as if fading with the Threshold’s drainage, but it’s there.

  We swim faster, harder, my heart beat, beat, beating as we dive straight through the light. I know we’ve reached the Fourth when we’re suddenly headed up instead of down, following another set of stone steps. Except these are different. Where the steps in the Third were infested with barnacles and seaweed, these are inlaid with precious stones in greens and golds.

  When we reach the surface, we crawl up the remainder of the steps onto the landing and collapse. My sodden clothes anchor me to stone.

  Khloe props herself up on her elbows. “Bet you’ve never seen a Shield do that before.”

  I shake my head, wet hair clinging to my skin.

  “It’s pretty neat, huh? And it’s not just gills. I can adapt to any climate. Change my blood from warm to cold in the desert. Grow fur in a blizzard. Bones taught me how to project my Calling onto others too. It’s how I could give you gills like me.”

  Bones? Ebony taught her this? So this is what they were doing on deck this morning. Practicing.

  Too cool. I’m so asking Ebony to teach me ASAP. How awesome would it be if I could project mirror walking?

  I wring my hair out and take in our surroundings. We’re on a miniature island in an ocean, and a rope bridge extends from the landing to a rocky shore. My gaze follows the bridge. To shore. To—

  Myriad emotions wash over me at once. Shock. Pain. Relief. Confusion. I bolt up and crouch in front of Khloe, shielding her like the flesh and blood she is.

  Fourth Reflection Guardians line the stone shore beyond the bridge. They’re darker skinned like Kuna and Tide. A mixture of men and women. Barefoot. Dressed for a party in their multicolored sarongs and togas. All bear tattoos on their right biceps, though from this distance I can’t tell what the tattoos depict.

  Past the Guardian line, a massive Roman-style palace towers, complete with marble columns and a statue of a regal-looking woman in a toga. Archaic symbols I can’t read are carved in swirling patterns on the columns and steps. Just like the gems glistening underwater, the symbols are also gold and green. In the distance to the east and west I spy mountain peaks white as cappuccino foam, their snowcaps out of place in this tropical climate. This is the Fourth? It’s grander than anything I’ve imagined but also familiar in a way that feels like home.

  Khloe pokes my back, popping my awestruck bubble. I blink rapidly, concentrate on the Guardian line. Each one has a weapon drawn and ready. Spears, knives, bows, swords. Some restrain our crew members. Charley. Flint. Ebony. Gunner. Tide. And is that . . . ? It is. Gage? He’s the one restraining Tide. How did he get here and why?

  My mind wants to examine the possibilities, to connect the dots. But then I zero in on the line’s center and forget them all.

  Two men stand there, one behind the other. Ky is in front, beaten and bruised. His right shirtsleeve is torn, revealing his Void-encompassed arm. Even from here the blood on his swollen lips is visible.

  Anger surges through my veins, electrocutes my nerves. I’m on my feet, sprinting across the rope bridge. When I’m halfway between landing and shore, the man detaining Ky steps from behind him.

  My heart stops, but my feet keep moving.

  “El,” Joshua calls. Relief softens his cerulean gaze. For a moment I almost don’t notice he’s holding a sword to Ky’s neck.

  He’s holding a sword to Ky’s neck.

  I step ashore, mere feet away from them. My arm reaches, shaking in a desperate plea. Stop. Please. Release him.

  “El?” Confusion creases Joshua’s forehead. His sword hand lowers a fraction of an inch.

  But it isn’t low enough.

  I swallow. Strain to find my voice. The first word I’ve uttered in days rasps from my lips, loud enough for my ears alone.

  “Ky.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Living in a Blur

  All eyes attend us. No one moves. The only sound is water lapping shore, combined with the pulse tap, tap, tapping my eardrums in perfect eight counts. We’re center stage and our audience waits with breath bated.

  “Go back, Khloe,” I croak.

  “No.” I’m not facing her, but there’s no denying the tears wavering her voice.

  My throat burns worse than ever, so I wave my arm frantically, gesturing for her to get the crowe out of here.

  Three, two, one . . .

  Splash!

  Sigh. At least she isn’t as stubborn as her brother.

  “El-i-yan-a Em-ber.” Joshua enunciates each syllable. Slowly. Carefully. It’s as if he’s unsure my name and I are one and the same. “It’s me.”

  My right foot slides back, followed by my left. I’m distinctly aware of Ky’s mirrorblade tucked into the back of my jeans. I grabbed it before we left, uncertain what the Fourth would bring. Now I have the urge to reach for it but can’t quite bring myself to follow through. This isn’t Joshua. At least not the one I know. My Joshua is a good guy. A hero. But
the man before me is a stranger, cut from the same cloth as Haman or Jasyn or Gage—men molded by weapons and cruelty and revenge.

  Gage stands only a few feet to Joshua’s right, the only other man here from the Second. Are they together? No. No way.

  “What are you doing?” The words are hardly audible. I clear my throat. Who knows how long my voice will last, but I’ll take what I can get.

  Joshua’s brow furrows. The arm holding the sword to Ky’s neck trembles. “El, you’re confused. But everything will be fine now. I am here. Everything will be fine.”

  Is his repeated phrase to assure me or himself?

  The blade connects with Ky’s skin. Blood seeps and drips.

  I wield the knife. My arm remains as steady as Ky’s unblinking gaze.

  “Stay there,” he says in my head.

  My entire being aches to give Joshua a taste of his own sword, but I stay put.

  “Trust me.” Joshua’s uneven tone mirrors his shaking hand. “Everything will be fine.”

  Fury flares. Everything is so not fine right now it disgusts me.

  “Easy now,” Ky warns. “Don’t make him angrier than he already is.”

  Right. “Joshua,” I breathe. “Listen. I was wrong to leave without telling you.”

  And you were wrong to keep Ky’s letter from me, I want to add. But I sense now is not the time to demand his apology.

  So I give mine instead. “I’m sorry. But it isn’t Ky’s fault.” I gesture toward him, my palm out in surrender. “Let’s talk about this.” I force a melody beneath my words for good measure. It feels stronger now somehow. Odd. If the Callings are dwindling and the Thresholds drain more each day, wouldn’t I be weaker?

  “Not necessarily. If the Verity is growing weak, I presume it would be drawing power back to itself.”