Isla
If she had never accidentally killed her parents with her first breath and got to be brought up by them. If she had never found her starstick and portaled to Grim’s room, or to Celeste’s. If she had never fallen off that balcony at the start of the Centennial to be saved by Oro.
And though the pool did not offer information on how to defeat Cronan, the woman was right. It did provide clarity.
There was one mistake in particular that she was desperate to examine. What if I had never saved Grim from the dreks? she asked the pool. If I had never destroyed that village?
And they weren’t the only victims. The dreks slaughtered thousands, everyone they could find—before moving on to the rest of the realms.
She watched as Azul tried to fight them—and was slain, plummeting from the sky. His entire people died with him.
Cleo attempted to flee—but her ships could not outsail these winged creatures. In a last resort, she and her people escaped below the sea. But not before many Moonlings were killed.
Wildlings were next. Bonded creatures tried their best to protect their people. . . . but couldn’t. Most of her people didn’t survive.
When the Centennial started, Lightlark was next.
They were unprepared. Most people hid inside, but the dreks waited them out. It took a while, and everyone fought fiercely, but eventually . . .
Oro was killed—and the island fell.
Isla gasped as she fought her way to the surface of the pool. She was panting, her heart racing.
The woman was waiting for her. “Now you see,” she said. “You have saved more than you have destroyed.” Oro had said something similar.
“For now,” Isla said. She rubbed her eyes, trying to erase those images from her mind.
The woman sighed. “Yes. For now. But you must forgive yourself in order to move forward. It’s the only way your mind will be focused enough to make the right choice next.”
Isla wanted to believe her. She knew, after seeing what she had in the pool, that she was right. But her shame lived in her very marrow. It was deep, and insidious. She would never forgive herself for what she had done. Not until she was able to bring them all back.
“Don’t let your mistakes haunt you, Isla. Use the past to fix the future.” The woman was right. Isla needed to learn from her mistakes, not live by them.
She had asked the pool to show her all her regrets, to see how different choices might have changed things. But that was the thing about life, she realized. There was no perfect scenario. Sometimes, the ending was inevitable, no matter how many times she tried to change it.
If her choice decided the fate of the world, she needed to make it after she had forgiven herself—as well as those who had hurt her. And maybe those same people could help her now.
Isla closed her eyes. The woman had said she could speak to people in her soul. People she had killed.
That was how she ended up walking into a familiar room.
And seeing a familiar figure with long, silver hair.