Isla
A storm rattled the castle. Bits of rock in the dungeon fell atop her head, waking her.
Her power flooded back into her at once. She tried to smash the cell bars to pieces—but no matter how much energy she summoned, her abilities died as soon as they reached the metal.
Shademade. Of course. It was threaded even through the walls.
But the skyre she had carved into her skin to get past the metal’s block in the maze didn’t work here.
No, this material was altered, as if it had been infused with Cronan’s own void-like force.
It didn’t matter that she could use her powers inside if the box she was in was impenetrable.
She slumped down to the floor, ignoring Lark’s labored breathing as her broken body began regenerating. But not completely. It was like the shadows Cronan had used to tear her apart were still threaded through her bones, keeping her from completely healing, even now.
It wasn’t long until Isla was back in Cronan’s galaxy room, staring up at the stars. He was making his way through her memories, and she was trying her best to keep him from seeing that the night before, she had found a way to visit Grim and Oro in their dreams.
He couldn’t know they were close to finding a portal and intent on using it to come to Skyshade for her.
So, she gave him other memories, trying to distract his piercing shadows.
And he went through them with fervor, twisting and distorting each as he went.
She tried to fight it, tried to keep them whole and correct.
But he seemed to revel in the battle between their minds, and he aways won.
He would reshape moments beyond recognition.
Worse—sometimes, he would simply shred them apart.
It took all of her strength to keep fighting back, through the agony—and every time she slipped, another memory was destroyed.
With Grim. With Oro.
With her people.
Gone. Gone.
She nearly passed out from the pain more than once, but he kept her awake. He kept her mind wide open.
Give up. Give up. Give up, his shadows sang as they barreled against her walls relentlessly. As they tore and mauled and destroyed.
She imagined the silver pool. She fought to center herself in this chaos, remembering what Oro had said about being strong.
She tried anything she could to hold on, but those memories had been her anchors, her most prized possessions, her everything.
And as they slipped away, she felt herself slip with them.
Just when she felt the wall in her mind about to finally crumble, an image flashed through it.
She knew it wasn’t a memory because she didn’t recognize this place. It looked like a field of wildflowers on Nightbane. It must have been one of the only stretches of land that hadn’t been destroyed by the storms or the battle.
The image was so shocking that the pain and despair all but vanished, for just a moment.
Only when she saw the edge of a massive paw did she know what this was.
Lynx. Somehow . . . he was sending this image to her. Just like he had before, when she had touched his furs.
Her bonded. Their connection had survived even this distance. Even Cronan’s power. Even her own snapping of the bridges around her soul. Just that fact alone was enough to strengthen her resolve.
But then . . . she saw them both.
Grim with Wraith. Her heart burned for her little family. Her chosen home. Just the sight of them made her spirit soar like she was flying with them.
Lastly, a figure moved into Lynx’s vision. He turned, and there he was. Oro. She felt tears cascading from the corners of her eyes. It was almost like he was staring directly at her as he said, “We’re coming for you, Isla. You are not alone, and we are coming. Hang on.”
He must have figured out that Lynx was connected to her. He knew she could see them.
Grim portaled next to Oro in a moment. He looked at her, and said, “You are infinite, heart. Never forget.”
And seeing them, side by side, fighting their way to her . . . she felt the resolve within her double. Triple. Until she was endless.
The silver-haired woman’s words danced in her head. You have only gotten stronger. And that strength . . . it has no limit. You have no limit.
It made the shield around her mind not only harden but surge. For the first time, she felt stronger than Cronan. She felt like she could break free.
And that’s exactly what Isla did.
She gasped as the vise around her body and mind were suddenly ripped away. She . . . could move. She flexed her tiniest finger. It was the smallest motion.
But it was enough. Because it was proof that even the strongest shackles could be broken.
Cronan was standing above her . . . snarling. He looked down at her, and Isla wondered if he would simply kill her. It looked like he might.
But then his shadows came crashing back down, and—
Picture a pool.
Her heart became silver water, rippling and endless. She let it fill her up, shielding her mind from Cronan’s attack. The pain faded away. Everything faded away.
Until her vision was replaced with the image of a leaf-swept grove with a pool in the center, its surface shining like melted metal in the moonlight. A silver-haired woman stood next to it, her aura casting a soft glow in the darkness.
“Who are you?” Isla asked. By now, she had realized every interaction with her had solely been in her head.
The woman simply motioned toward the pool, as if in answer. Isla took a step forward. And in the silver water’s reflection, in a matter of moments, she saw . . . everything. An impossible existence.
When it ended, she stumbled back, blinking, then turned to the woman in awe.
“All of this,” the woman said, “has led to you.”
Isla swallowed. It was all she had heard, ever since she was a child. She had always been different—either a curse or the only cure.
She wished she was neither.
“I don’t want this,” Isla said, because she knew now that this woman would understand.
“I know,” she whispered, grabbing grabbed Isla’s hands. “I didn’t either.” Her silver eyes gleamed. “I’m sorry that this is your burden to bear.”
Isla closed her eyes tightly before reopening them. “I’m sorry it was yours.” Seeing the other woman’s journey . . . it reignited Isla’s determination to keep going. To keep fighting against the darkness. Just as she had—and so many women before her.
“You have impossible choices to face. And I will try to make them easier for you.” She motioned toward the glistening water.
“What is it?” Isla asked. “Does it show the past?”
“Yes,” the woman said. “But so much more than that.”
From the water’s edge, Isla saw herself reflected in this single moment in time. She saw her dirt-crusted cheeks. Her unwashed hair. Dried blood along her temple, and a burn on her forehead, like Cronan’s shadows had left a mark.
Then, the pool seemed to break, like it was made of glass, fracturing into a thousand pieces. In each shard, Isla saw her own familiar face yet slightly changed. Each herself, but different.
“This is the Pool of Possibilities,” the woman said. “An ancient place that is only found by those who are chosen. Ask a question, take the plunge, and you will see how things might have been different.”
Isla didn’t know how walking through possible paths would help her in this situation.
The woman seemed to guess at Isla’s reluctance, because she said, “You can only move forward once you have made peace with your past. This pool can provide that clarity.” She paused, gazing at Isla intently.
“Sometimes the hardest journeys are the ones we face within ourselves. It can be dangerous, piercing that deeply into your soul. Often the truths revealed are not pleasant.”
Truth. Isla could never hear that word and not think of Oro.
“On the other hand . . . Some get lost in what could have been. Many have drowned in the pool, wanting to live in the past forever,” the woman continued. “You must have a strong enough reason to come back.”
Isla thought of Oro. Of Grim. Of Lynx, Wraith, her people, the people of Lightlark, the friends she had loved and lost. Of every single person she had left behind.
“I have a reason,” Isla said.
With one last squeeze of her hand, the woman gestured to the waters.
Here, in Isla’s mind, with this pool in front of her, she was in control.
With a brush of her hand, she was no longer in the tattered, filthy clothes and dirt-crusted boots she had been wearing since she arrived on this world. Her gossamer gown, plucked from her Wildling room, was as light as air and as green as the forest around them.
She dipped a bare foot into the pool, a shiver shooting up her leg, straight to her heart. She rested her foot fully onto the smoothed rocks below the water, then took another step. Another.
And she found that this wasn’t water at all.
It was something strange, thick. Glimmering.
As she waded through toward the center, her senses felt like they were coming alive in a way she didn’t have the words for.
It wasn’t like anything she had ever felt before, even on Lightlark and Nightshade.
The more she studied it, the more the pool revealed itself, becoming a color she had never considered.
The rippling waves sounded like an instrument she couldn’t name.
The water slid over her skin like a fabric she couldn’t describe.
Her dress billowed around her as she turned back to the woman. “You’ll have to submerge yourself,” the woman said.
Isla floated on her back, her gaze up at the night beyond the trees, and the pool held her with invisible hands.
Peace. This was what eternal peace felt like.
In her mind, the sky was all stars, dancing and forming patterns in the inky darkness.
She studied them until her mind felt heavy.
Until her body began to slowly sink into the water.
Until only her face was above the surface.
That’s when she felt a bolt run through her as if she had been struck by lightning. Isla seized, her blood ablaze.
And she was pulled down to the bottom.