by Sara Ella
Ky bristled at her words.
I shuddered. Who would have thought such people existed?
A wave crashes over the railing, drenching me with the very real and life-threatening present. Ignore anxiety. Ignore danger. I have one task now. No use worrying about anything else but how to get us out of here.
“Projecting is a cinch,” Khloe said before we hit the squall. “Think of your Calling like a wire running between you and the Verity, connecting you to your ability. You take it in”—she drew her hands to her chest—“then push it out.” Her palms shoved away. “Most people stop there, but Ebony showed me how to keep pushing until my power is more than my own.”
As if in slow motion my mind travels to the Fifth’s Threshold. I read about it in Mom’s journal, and there was even a small sketch for reference. I recall the passage, letting the words wash over me.
Twelfth Day, Sixth Month, Thirtieth Year of Aidan’s Reign
Mom was only eight when she penned the entry, though, as was her custom, the words read as if written by someone years her senior.
The king has returned from his outer Reflection travels, and as always he has come bearing gifts. As he has no daughters of his own, he is always kind enough to shower me with items he might bestow upon his own children, if he had any.
He did have one. Just not yet.
This time he arrived with pastels from the Fourth’s Kaide Agi Marketplace and a miniature canvas depicting a painting of the Threshold leading from the Fourth to the Fifth—Yanlib Sea Threshold. The king relayed it is one of his favorites, and by far one of the loveliest Thresholds to behold.
And there, illuminating the page opposite the entry, was a sketch of a waterfall that seemed to cascade from the clouds. The sketch caught my eye immediately, and I stored it away in my Scrib memory bank. A curtain of green liquid at the center of the sea. Mom used pastels rather than her go-to charcoal. The water reminded me of Oz’s Emerald City, all green and glowing. A sight one would never expect to find, but there it is. Existing. Doing its thing.
Image clear in my mind’s eye, I focus with all my soul. Willing the Threshold near, inviting it with my voice, my song a serenading lullaby. Normally I’d stop there. Concentrating on me, myself, and I. On what I can do. Instead, when I feel the energy well inside me, I thrust it away. My face contorts and my knees buckle. It’s all I can do not to fall over. My sisters didn’t mention anything about pain. Feels as if I’m slicing in two. Me igniting the Magnet within, and the Magnet within igniting me.
Oh, if Alicia Keys could see me now. It’d bring a whole new meaning to “Girl on Fire.”
I can’t do this. It’s too much. I’m exhausted to my core, haven’t had enough time to hone this avenue of my Calling. I can’t—
I can’t.
But we can.
A deep inhale prepares me for the scorch. And boy, does it scorch. Ouch. How does Khloe do this and keep a straight face? Is it one of those things you get used to like the ache of the Void? I certainly hope so, otherwise I won’t be inclined to project ever again.
Pull, ouch, push, crowe, pull, snap, push, gah!
The squall rages on. The waves threaten to turn us bottom side up. I want to pause, see if my projection is working, but I can’t risk losing focus. I may not be able to get it back if I do. I draw the image of the Fifth’s Threshold here, expand it out and away, left and right, to Ebony and Khloe. Together we can do this, together we will make it.
A flash of green light. There. Through the torrent. Another deep breath. Come on, come on . . .
The Threshold flies toward us as a tornado, fast and furious. We’re headed straight for it. Or it for us. Can’t tell. The light flickers, like a lightbulb about to burn out. Then the curtain proceeds to come down on itself, the water folding over, the fall shrinking. Soon it will create the wormhole Tide mentioned, just as the Threshold in the Fourth did.
Hurry up, you blasted Threshold. We don’t have all day.
It hits us full force. One more breath before the air is vacuumed away. There is only water. We should be drawn through. Instead we remain stagnant, frozen between there and here. Oh my Void, we’re going to drown unless we do something. The crew needs to row. But if I lose focus and speak to Ky, ask him to give the order—
“I’ve got you, Em,” he says in my head. “Don’t let go.”
Pull and push, pull and push. Draw in the Calling, project it out and away. My lungs are flaming. Can’t hold my breath much longer. I’m going, going, on the verge of gone . . .
We burst free, buoying to the surface of what I can only hope is the Fifth. Sun beats white hot. The ship and crew are logged with water. We’re floating along a murky brown river. Red and purple canyon walls surround us on all sides. The scent of wet dirt coats the atmosphere. A desert is the last thing I expected to find in the Fifth. With its enchanting Threshold and chief who looks as if he migrated from the rolling green hills of Scotland, sand dunes and cacti were not included in the picture.
Then again, the Reflections never cease to amaze me. I should learn to anticipate the unexpected by now.
I collapse to my knees, but I’m not alone. Everyone on board gasps and chokes. Some are passed out, the length of time underwater too much for them. Those who lasted perform CPR on the weaker ones. I smile to myself, not because I’m glad they need revival, but because I don’t.
I really am stronger than I believed.
When I gain my bearings, rise to a stand, it’s Ebony who says, “Well done. I knew you had it in you.” She claps me on the back. “That was kind of awesome, sis.”
It’s the first time she’s referred to me as such. And it’s in this moment, something between us shifts. No façades. No walls. She is for real. I can trust her.
And now I’m beaming.
Ky appears beside me, one arm wrapped around Khloe. “We made it,” they say in unison, then chuckle. Though they’re not related by blood, the sound of their laughs rings similar.
Hands on my hips and chest expanding, I take it all in. So this is it. The Fifth. It’s not much to look at. Oh well. I shrug. As much as I long to sleep for days, we don’t have that sort of time.
Dahlia Moon, here we come.
FORTY-TWO
Joshua
You had no choice. You did what was required to obtain your goal.”
“Get out of my head!”
The voice that emerges from my mouth is not one I recognize. It’s angry and bitter, splintering through the canyon like a nail through rotting wood.
The voice inside, however, is one I’ve become all too familiar with. This voice has been eating me alive for days, but more so since I slunk away from the Fourth, the countess’s blood hot on my hands. I can no longer slough it off as exhaustion. The voice taunts me, driving me mad, relentless in its sinister assurances.
“Come now. Surely you don’t mind my presence. The company must be welcome. The life of a murderer is a lonely one—”
“I am not a murderer!” The last word echoes, returning to haunt me again and again with each step. My entire body itches and burns. I am surrounded by desert, but my state has nothing to do with the Fifth Reflection climate.
The Void is taking over. I am running out of time.
“Tell me, Joshua, how does it feel to be a murderer?”
My internal vexation mimics Haman’s hiss, mocking the memory of our confrontation at the subway Threshold. Back then the words were a jab, cutting at my guilt over my mother’s death. A death that was an accident. A death that was not my fault, just like the death of Countess Ambrose.
It was an accident.
I did not intend to kill her.
It is not my fault.
“Keep telling yourself that,” the voice jeers.
I shove the countess’s son forward, prodding the boy’s back with the tip of my sword. Since when did I become a murderer, and now a kidnapper? My criminal record grows thick, but I’m so close. I can’t give up, not when I’ve come thi
s far. I pick up my pace, clutching the mirrorglass bottle in my right hand.
Once Gage and I delivered the true Midnight Rose to Isabeau, we parted at last, then I returned to the Fourth alone, eager to find my brother and El in the catacombs where I left them. But they were nowhere to be seen, and anxiety mounted among the Reflection’s residents.
“Something is amiss,” a shopkeeper murmured to his customers as I crept between buildings in the marketplace. “The countess is usually up with the sun. Passes through every morning, tasting the baker’s bread, chattin’ with the coffee roaster. Unlike her not to show.”
The countess’s body hadn’t been discovered yet, but it was only a matter of hours before the tides would change. I couldn’t risk remaining in the area. If I got caught, the countess’s death traced back to me, all my hard work would be for nothing. Still, I required information as to where Kyaphus had taken El. The countess most likely would have known, but the woman was useless to me now. My best option was her heir. But of course I couldn’t take his meager word for it. I brought him along to ensure he relayed the truth. He protested at first, insisting the crew had nothing I desired.
“Listen closely. I will find the whereabouts of your captain. With or without your help.” I lifted him by his shirt collar, and his feet dangled aboveground. The extra strength I’d received from the Void was paying off.
“Hey, man.” The boy’s hands shot into the air faster than Ever blood heals. “I’m sure we can work out a deal.”
I lowered him but kept my grip tight. “What is it you want?”
“There’s a girl on board the ship. Ebony. Leave her alone and I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“Done.”
I didn’t give him time to request a Kiss of Accord, and he didn’t attempt it. Perhaps the kid is smarter than he looks.
Fortitude carries us farther from the Fifth’s Fairy Fountain, closer to the canyon’s end. Isabeau was more than accommodating once she had her precious rose. Now we trudge through this forsaken desert land. I bear no interest in Kyaphus’s reasons for dragging—stealing—El away. It only matters that I catch up to them before things turn irreversible. If the Callings expire entirely, if the Thresholds finish draining, that’s it. The Verity’s light will extinguish, and the Reflections as we know them will never be the same.
“How much farther to the nearest compound?” The sound that trips off my tongue is again foreign to me. More animal than man.
Tried or Ride or whatever his name is walks with hands behind his head. “I told you, I’ve only been here once. I think it’s at the end of the canyon.”
“You’d better be right, kid. For your own sake.”
I want to vomit from my own cruelty but refrain. I must keep my wits if I’m to question the people of the Fifth. This Reflection is known for its smaller clusters of people, and most who live here are native born. Rare to have strangers or visitors, which makes my job a crowe of a lot easier. If El and Kyaphus have been sighted, the people here will know.
A small hut at the crest of a winding trail ahead catches my eye and I aim for it, nudging the boy’s arm with the flat of my blade so he adjusts his course. The sun beats down and I blink against its rays, longing for the winter of the Second. I’d welcome snow over sand any day.
The trail takes longer to climb than anticipated, or perhaps I have nothing to gauge time against anymore. Up close the hut looks more like a small cottage, out of place in this terrain with its cobbled walls and potted flowers in the windowsills. It almost seems familiar, as if I’ve seen it somewhere before.
I shake away the notion. Throat parched and legs weak, I shove the boy left, keeping my sword level with his chest. Then I lift a fist and pound the door. Someone shuffles around on the other side. The curtain in the window to my left flutters. I lean to the right and shade my eyes, peering through the glass but unable to catch much of anything through the caked dust.
When I draw back I catch a glimpse of my reflection. Then I recoil, dropping my sword and clawing at my face. This is me? This is the man I’ve become? No, not a man at all, but a monster. No different from the Troll. No better than Jonathan. How could I have allowed this to happen?
“For power.”
No, for El.
“Not for your precious Eliyana. You did this for yourself.”
The door cracks and I shield my face with my arm, all too sure whoever it is will not help me if they see not who but what I am.
The door flies wide and a woman steps over the Threshold. Her belly has reduced since I saw her last. She cradles a baby, bouncing him the way I’ve seen countless mothers do. I lower my arm and her confused expression pales to dread.
My knees knock and I collapse at her feet.
“Joshua!” Her shout echoes the fear widening her eyes.
I can’t move. I gaze at her, tears streaming as I croak, “Elizabeth.”
FORTY-THREE
Meant for Me
How much farther? Every joint and muscle aches. I’m dirty and tired and basically done. I blow a breath onto my palm and sniff. Grimace. I’d ask someone for a stick of gum, but yeah. Doubt Ebony has a random piece of Juicy Fruit lying around in her pocket. And if she did I bet I wouldn’t want it anyway. Because eww.
The hike through the canyon along what I’ve learned is the Docolora River is uncomfortable at best. My jeans are stretched out from constant wear and have begun to sag low on my hips. My hair is so tangled a bird could make a nest out of it. I’d be lucky to get a brush through it even after a wash and condition, neither of which is probably anywhere in my near future.
Isaach leads the caravan with the Iron Lass crew close behind. The draining Threshold we passed through—Nabka Threshold—looked more like a pond by the time we left than the lake Isaach said it’s supposed to be. The alcohol seems to have worn off, as the bearded man’s steps are sure and straight now. We follow single file, the path growing narrower with each step. At one point I’m forced to turn sideways in order to scooch between two boulders. A bout of claustrophobia kicks in and I’m half inclined to turn back. But I’m sandwiched between Ebony in front and Ky behind. Nowhere to go but where everyone else is headed.
When we reach the slenderest patch of the pass, I’m sure we’ve hit a dead end. But wait. No. Hard to see when everyone is taller than me, but is that . . . Are they . . . Yes. They’re getting down on all fours, crawling through a low tunnel. Funny how almost drowning didn’t freak me out, but the idea of going through this hole in the earth causes my pulse to amp. Is it long? Sturdy? What if it caves in? What if we get stuck? Death by suffocation or a rock to the head is so not the way I want to go.
Khloe enters, then Ebony. Ugh, fine. I’m on my knees, breathing deep, then scuttling forward. I can’t see a thing and the only sound is the shuffle of my sisters in front of me, the pant of their shallow breaths. Low oxygen makes my chest constrict the farther we crawl. I wish Ebony would move faster.
“Really, Em? You faced the most sinister man in the Reflections and this is what scares you?”
If you’re going to make fun of me, you can just leave. The sand and pebbles grate my palms. My knees are sore and there’s a crick in my neck. For crying out loud, will this tunnel ever end?
“I keep telling you,” Ky thinks. “If you don’t want a response, you have to block me.”
And how am I supposed to do that?
“Think of it like self-defense. Take your thoughts captive. Keep your mind guarded. Make a conscious decision to—”
Ky’s thought dies. Cuts off. We’re talking radio silence. Ky? Hello? You okay? I hear him move behind me, but his mind has muted.
“See?” His voice returns. “Exactly like that. Go somewhere else. Anywhere but here.”
Anywhere but here, huh? It’s worth a try.
Still moving, I work to focus. That’s really all any Calling is—focus. What I’ve been doing since honing my abilities. Using my mind, my heart, to find the strength within. Love ignites m
y Calling, as I discovered at Nathaniel’s that cold November night on Lisel Island. When I tried to ignore it, do away with it, everything was more difficult. But when I let it in? Invite it? My Calling comes alive—the Verity comes alive. Of course it does. Because the Verity was meant to love, to be loved. It all makes so much sense now.
Nowhere to go but forward, I close my eyes. I continue crawling, but I’m not here. I think of the Verity, of the woman it became. Of the heartbreak she endured. My thoughts take me to what I imagine to be the Garden of Epoch. Trees at every angle. Roses the brightest hue of red. A river with a waterfall the clearest crystal blue. Pouring, splashing, foaming at its end. I picture myself walking along a cobbled path, and as I walk, hedges sprout on either side of me. I envision an orchard filled with any fruit one might wish to eat. As I pick an apple, more trees spring up around me, shielding me.
“You’re doing it,” Ky thinks. “I can’t hear you.”
I move through the trees, breaking free of them. But I can still hear you.
“Only if you want to.”
I do, but for now I allow myself to shrink back into the solace of the trees. It’s quiet here. I love Ky, but this is nice too. Needed. A first-in-forever minute alone where I can think anything and no one knows but me, myself, and the Verity.
I remain that way, lounging against the apple tree of my mind, crunching on the sweet fruit. When we exit the tunnel, I rise and dust off my jeans. Ky gets up beside me. He’s beaming.
“You’re my favorite,” he says aloud.
I smile up at him, but my thoughts linger in my private corner. A little mystery will do him some good. Because some things need to be left unsaid—unheard.
Some thoughts are meant for me alone.
“Gather ’round, friends, and hear this tale.”
Isaach’s wife, Breckan, gestures for us to join her by the campfire. Her sapphire eyes dance in the flames’ light. Her hair is as fiery as Charley’s, who is apparently a native of the Fifth. The woman’s voice is young and vibrant, but the laugh lines framing her smile let on she’s older than she sounds. She wears a dress fashioned from stripped cloth similar to the one modeled on our redheaded crew member.