Isla
No . . . it was as if something had reached out to keep her from hurtling into the past, tying her down to the present.
She whirled, bracing herself against the coming onslaught from the entire army of wood-women.
But they were all frozen in place, some close enough to touch. A bark-carved dagger was just an inch from her chest.
How—
A light shined in the distance, past the frozen woods-warriors. The light grew and grew until Isla could make out a woman walking through the woods, an orb of energy around her.
She had silver eyes, and silver hair, reminding her of Starlings. But Isla did not recognize this woman. She was beautiful, radiant, and just slightly older than Isla.
She had no weapon. But Isla could feel the power radiating off her. She suspected this woman didn’t need a weapon because she was one. With a simple flick of her hand, the wood-warriors all scattered, rolling through the woods like sand being brushed away.
Only then did the woman look at Isla, curiosity glimmering in her silver eyes.
“Who are you?” Isla asked, blinking.
The woman did not answer. She just offered a hand and said, “We don’t have much time.”
Isla only looked at it. “Time for what?”
All she said was, “Close your eyes.”
Isla’s rational mind was screaming that this was a stranger and she couldn’t trust anyone on this world.
But this silver woman had saved her from the warriors.
And more than that, Isla knew in her core that she didn’t mean her any harm.
The opposite, really. For the first time since landing on Skyshade, Isla felt at peace.
She closed her eyes. She saw nothing but darkness there.
“Open them.”
Isla did and saw she was still in a forest, in the center of a wide clearing. The trees at its edge were taller than the others, thicker, more ancient. The breeze from before had been ripped away.
And a silver pool of water sat in front of her, between the size of a pond and a puddle.
Isla spun around. Lark was gone. “My ancestor, she—”
“Will be fine. For now,” the woman said.
She needed Lark. She should go back. But how had they even gotten here? Had they somehow portaled? “Who are you? Why did you help me?”
Again, the woman did not answer. She just said, “You came here for answers, did you not?”
Isla frowned. How did this woman know anything about her? “I came here to save my world. I came here . . . to change my fate.”
The woman looked upon her, gaze fixed on all the cuts and bruises she had managed to get in the day or so that she had been in this world.
“I’m not doing a great job of it,” Isla admitted.
The woman didn’t respond and continued her examination.
Isla felt as though she could see through her skin, right into her very soul.
“Your prophecy,” the woman finally said.
That word was enough to make her blood still. “You know it?” How was that possible? They lived worlds away . . .
“Your prophecy is older than you can possibly imagine,” the silver woman said.
She walked toward the pool. “It’s good that you found yourself here, in the Forgotten Forest. It only invites certain people inside—those who need to remember .
. .” The woman paused, turning back to Isla. “The forest never forgets.”
Isla frowned. “What—”
“To fix your future, you must understand your past. You must understand what brought you here. Because, make no mistake, every one of your actions has led you to this very moment.”
Fix your future. That was exactly what she wanted to do. She didn’t care who this woman was if she could help her forge a new fate.
“How do I do that?” Isla asked.
She motioned toward the pool. Isla stepped beside her and peered into it. She winced at her reflection. Blood crusted her face. Her hair was matted, and her armor was filthy.
Then a single ripple formed from the center of the pool, moving out in perfectly positioned rings. Her reflection wobbled in the waves, distorting—
Until the surface of the water changed.
It became a mirror of all the memories she had just lived through in that forest. Her upbringing. Her training. It flashed before her like an entire childhood of pain and loss and loneliness was distilled into a single second.
And then the pool went still again.
Isla didn’t realize she was on her knees until she saw herself reflected once more. She didn’t realize she was crying until the woman placed a hand on her shoulder.
Now that she wasn’t in immediate danger . . . now that she was in this grove . . . so many emotions came flooding up to the surface.
Her training, her guardians. All the bones broken, all the skin shredded, all the injuries, all the responsibility, all the blame, all the isolation. All the betrayal. All the lies.
She couldn’t breathe—she felt like she was choking from the pain of it all. Before she could get a word out, the woman’s arms were around her in a comforting embrace.
And Isla sobbed.
“I was just a child,” Isla said, gasping out the words. The realization had really only come to her now. She had always thought her training had been fair. Necessary. She only got what she deserved. She was only trained so hard because she would have it so hard at the Centennial.
But now . . . seeing it all back . . .
She remembered how horrified she was when Grim told her about his upbringing. It was only now that she understood that her training had been just as barbaric.
“I was just a child,” she repeated, her voice trembling. “Just a child who was alone and wanted to be loved. I was forged into a weapon, and I—I never wanted this,” she said, feeling like she was eight years old again, begging the world for mercy.
The woman nodded and hummed, smoothing her hair down like a mother would. “You were just a child. You never wanted this,” she repeated, and the validation of hearing it from someone else . . . It was everything.
“I don’t want to keep going,” Isla said, sputtering. And she knew it was a weak, horrible thing to say, after everything she had done to get here. After everyone she had killed. She knew she sounded like a child. “The road has been so hard already.”
But the woman didn’t judge her. She pulled away slowly in order to rest her hands on Isla’s shoulders and lock eyes with her.
“It will only get harder,” she promised.
“But you have only gotten stronger. And that strength . . . it has no limit. You have no limit. You are a sword. You will cleave through the present and shape your future to your will. Fate will fear you.”
Isla’s chin quivered, and she bowed her head.
She didn’t want to be strong anymore. The woman cupped her cheek so Isla would look at her again.
“This place will always be here for you when you need it,” she said.
“When you start to doubt yourself, I want you to picture a pool, reflecting every moment you were brave. Every moment you fought, when it was easier to give up. This silver will remind you of your strength. It will be your shield. For this pool is bottomless, just like you. It was here long before me and will be here long after any of our names are nothing but a forgotten echo in the universe.”
“But I’m dying,” Isla said. “My life-force . . . it’s almost gone.”
With that, the woman pooled some of the silver water in her hands, and offered it to Isla. “Drink. It will give you a little more time.”
Isla didn’t know how a pool would help her, but she was desperate. She drank, and felt that silver water slide down her throat—then shoot through her veins, reigniting her energy. “Thank you,” Isla said.
“You aren’t saved yet,” the woman said. “I’m just giving you what everyone deserves—a chance to save yourself.”
As Isla dried her tears, she wondered how this woman, this stranger, could believe in her more than she believed in herself.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
When she opened them again, the woman was there, waiting.
“Tell me there is an end to this.” An end to this pain.
An end to this fight. An end to this suffering.
“Night always turns to day, Isla.” The woman’s eyes flicked to Isla’s wrist. To the charm her mother had given her. “And you can see the end of this. When you’re ready.”
“Am I ready?” Isla asked. Needing someone to tell her, because she truly didn’t know what she was doing. Not anymore. Not ever, by the way things were working out.
“Not if you have to ask,” the woman said. She opened her mouth again—then her entire expression changed. She gripped Isla’s hands tighter and looked frantically over her shoulder. “He’s coming.”
He. Isla didn’t need to ask who she meant.
The forest trembled. The water rippled once more.
The silver woman’s voice was hurried as she met her gaze again. “Everything you have been through has led you here. Use your past as a guide to get you through. I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m—”
Isla blinked. And the woman was gone. The silver pool and the grove vanished.
She was back in the forest, surrounded by the wood-crusted warrior women. They were still frozen. But not by an invisible force.
Lark was standing in the middle of the army, her knees bent and arms outstretched, holding them at bay. Rain pelted her brow and melted down her neck. A storm had formed above them.
“Where is she?” Isla gasped, whirling around. “Where is the woman?”
“What woman?” Lark growled, as she flung the woods-warriors away, controlling them all at once. Her wounds were beginning to stitch back together.
Isla frowned. No. It had been real. All of it. “What—”
A resounding boom rang through the forest. Through the universe. The rest of this world seemed to shrink into a whisper.
Another. And another. It was like a giant walking toward them.
Lark’s power flickered out for just a moment. And in its absence, the warrior women did not attack. Instead, one after another, the women scattered, rushing back into their trees. Sealing themselves into the bark.
But it was no use. The night stilled—then shattered, and darkness rippled before them in a wave that flattened the woods, turning the trees to ash. Then that ruinous void took the form of a man.
Not just any man. He looked so much like her husband that her heart stopped for a second. But she knew exactly who this was.
Cronan.