Chapter 72 Romie
THE LIGHTHOUSE CAME INTO VIEW on a cloudless afternoon.
It was Nisha, standing at the bow of their sailboat, who saw it first. She turned back to Romie to shout an enthusiastic “Look!”, her face splitting into a smile so brilliant, it was all Romie wanted to look at.
Hard not to, when Nisha appeared so at home on the water.
The sea air suited her, with the color on her cheeks deepened by the sun, her long hair tied back with a bright kerchief, loose strands dancing in the wind.
Eyes like amber reflecting all the light around her.
Romie craned her neck from where she sat at the stern steering the ship.
The sight of the coastline made her heart swell and ache in equal measure.
The late summer saw harebells in full bloom, a veritable sea of purple wildflowers growing in the shade of the jack pines and spruce trees that hugged the cove.
And towering over it all, weathered yet firm, was the Ainsleif lighthouse.
Six figures spilled onto the smooth gray rocks of the shore to wave their hands in greeting, and though they were too far still to make out their faces, Romie would recognize her brother’s gawky frame anywhere.
Romie laughed, excitement pulling her like a taut string toward the coast. She was home at last, after months of traveling with Nisha.
They’d been wandering aimlessly together, sailing wherever they felt like it—to Trevel, the Constellation Isles, anywhere that was far from Aldryn and the Institute, these places riddled with bad memories for them both.
Returning to Elegy now, they found those memories didn’t seem as dark or as daunting. As if they had left them behind somewhere in the Aldersea.
The moment her feet struck ground, Romie was swept into Baz’s embrace.
Her brother’s hair was shorter, and he had the faintest scruff on his face.
He looked downright professorial; fitting, Romie supposed, since he was meant to start as a teaching fellow once the new term started.
At his side, Kai looked more serene than she’d ever seen him, as if he’d peeled back several layers of sullen anger to uncover someone who seemed genuinely happy.
Nisha was caught between Virgil and Vera, who were bickering like an old married couple.
Rumor was they’d spent most of the summer together in Trevel—Virgil mentioning something about horse racing the last time Romie had spoken to him—but Romie wasn’t sure what the future held for the two of them, what with Virgil heading back to Aldryn for his last year of studies and Vera splitting her time between Trevel and Cadence, where the Kazan sisters lived.
And Harebell Cove, Romie supposed, spotting the youngest of the Kazans standing close to Henry.
Adriana. Luce, as she preferred to be called still.
The very Dreamer that Romie had chased after in dreams at the start of all this.
She looked so strikingly like Emory—only a few years older than her, thanks to whatever paradox had pulled her through time—that Romie felt the breath knocked out of her.
Luce and Henry made an odd pair, to be sure, but she was glad to know Henry wasn’t alone in his lighthouse, since Luce had moved in.
Still, Romie couldn’t help but note the new lines around Henry’s eyes, the thinner frame of his face. He seemed to have aged years in the wake of losing Emory. But the smile he gave Romie as he greeted her with a hug was genuine, and so very fond.
Once, Romie had believed a life devoid of adventure would be a boring one.
Now she understood the merit of a quiet life.
Or at least of quiet moments. She still couldn’t bring herself to stay still for very long.
She still wanted to see the world, to carve her own path in it.
But she finally understood how to live in the present.
To not always be looking toward the next thing, but to be here and now, savoring every second of it.
It was never the destination she should have had her eye on; it was the road along the way, the people she met along it, the things she saw—that was the real adventure.
She wished she’d been so present when Emory was still around, but she took solace in the idea that everything she was seeing, every moment she soaked in, Emory was there somehow.
The world had been restored by Emory’s hand, after all.
It was the least Romie could do to appreciate it for the both of them.
It had become a bit of a tradition for everyone to meet up at Henry Ainsleif’s lighthouse as often as they could.
Romie and Nisha had stopped by once before setting sail when they both decided they did not want to return to Aldryn College, at least not for now.
And she knew that Baz visited Henry every month without fault.
Today was special, because they were all here.
Romie and Nisha; Baz and Kai; Virgil and Vera; Ife, Louis, and Javier, who, along with Virgil and some help from Nisha, were all fighting tirelessly to bring what remained of the Selenic Order to justice; even Romie and Baz’s parents were here along with Jae, Professor Selandyn, and Alya Kazan.
And perhaps best of all—a slight exaggeration, but not really—was Dusk, brought over in a cat carrier by Baz and Kai, who had unofficially adopted him while Romie was traveling the world.
Romie’s heart was full as they all sat around the lighthouse swapping stories and eating Henry’s famous brown bread and chowder. Dusk purred on her lap, Nisha’s hand was warm in hers, and everything was fine. Romie was content.
Content was something she was learning to appreciate. Content was safe.
And yet.
The scroll of parchment was tucked into her pocket. It had appeared on the sailboat one night as if by magic—two identical scrolls, one addressed to Romie, the other to Nisha.
An invitation from the gods themselves.
The doors between worlds were open for those who knew where to look for them.
But there was no way to travel between them; not without a Tidecaller, not without keys.
The gods themselves were bound to their godsworld once more, powerless to meddle with human affairs.
Which was why they were calling on people from each of the four worlds to act as their emissaries, granted the power to travel between all the realms.
The Veiled Atlas reborn.
Romie wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet. It had the weight of a secret, like when she had been tapped for initiation by the Selenic Order, and she had promised herself she would no longer keep such secrets from the people she loved.
As it turned out, there was no need to bring it up to Baz; her brother did it for her.
“I’m assuming you received an invitation from the gods?” he asked her when things were dwindling down for the night and they found themselves alone.
Romie scrunched up her brow. “How did you know?”
Baz gave her a sheepish smile. “Because I got one too. So did Kai. Virgil and Vera, too.”
Of course they would have. After everything they’d been through, the worlds they’d traversed, the horrors they’d fought, it only made sense they would all of them receive the call to join the Veiled Atlas.
It was as if the gods were extending an olive branch.
As if they knew they’d all be longing for adventure again at some point.
Romie grasped Baz’s hands, heart soaring as she realized he’d finally received the call he’d long fantasized about.
“This is great,” she said excitedly. Truly letting herself imagine what it would be like to answer the call for the first time since the scroll had appeared to her. “We can all go and—”
“I’m not going,” Baz said.
Romie blinked at him. “But… isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”
“Maybe it was, once.” Baz glanced to where the others were talking—to where Kai sat peacefully stroking a curled-up Dusk in his lap, a quiet smile on his face. “Not anymore.”
As if sensing Baz’s gaze, Kai looked up and winked at him.
They both were choosing to stay here, Romie realized. Choosing each other over the call of gods. And why wouldn’t they? They had been separated by time, by monsters, by the Deep itself. They deserved to be done with it all, if that’s what they wanted.
Romie wasn’t sure what she wanted. Or she thought she knew but was mulling it over more so than she ever would have before. She’d never been one to think things through—she’d always just acted on a whim.
Things had changed.
On one hand, she was eager to be reunited with Aspen and Tol and Orfeyi, these people she’d forged unbreakable bonds with—bonds that seemed to defy all logic now, as she could still find them in dreams, even when they were worlds apart.
Maybe it was the time they’d spent joined together as Atheia’s vessel that made such a thing possible.
It was how she knew that Aspen’s sister, Bryony, had made a miraculous recovery from her coma, that the Amberyls were happily reunited, the witches thriving as their Wychwood became lush and green once more.
It was how she knew that Tol had helped disband the Fellowship of the Light as it once had been, that the knights were now following the old ways of the Golden Helm, where dragons and eldritch beasts and draconics lived in mutual respect of one another.
It was how she knew that storms had ceased in Orfeyi’s world, that music soared once more, that sometimes one might glimpse a winged horse soaring through clouds, their divinity restored.
These dream encounters were how Romie knew the three of them had also been chosen to be part of this new Veiled Atlas and were going to accept.
This was where Romie’s trepidation lay: the idea of following the call of another destiny.
Yet this wasn’t some unshakeable song that pulled them all forward. It was a choice that Romie was free to make on her own. There was no sense of predestined obligation. Just… curiosity. A desire for something new.
Perhaps it would always be in Romie’s nature to want such things—adventure, the unknown. Only this time, she would be in control of who she was and where such an adventure would take her.
And if she accepted, she’d do better this time. She wouldn’t fail the people she cared about like she had before.
Later she found Nisha dozing in front of the fireplace with Dusk in her lap. Romie curled up beside her on the sofa. And here in front of the fire, with her arms wrapped around this girl she loved who had stuck by her from the start, Romie knew her choice rested on wherever Nisha was.
“You know,” Nisha mumbled drowsily, her eyes still closed as she pulled Romie’s arms around her tighter, “I never did get to properly see the Wychwood.”
“It’s like one giant greenhouse. You’d love it.”
“Maybe they need help restoring all those plants after the rot set in.” Nisha cracked an eye open. “I seem to recall you’d developed somewhat of a green thumb.”
“Not as green as yours, surely.”
“What I’m trying to say is… maybe we could go.”
“Are you sure?”
Nisha nestled her face in the crook of Romie’s neck. “As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.”
The words settled something inside Romie.
She thought of the little greenhouse they’d tended to at Aldryn.
Thought of the mess of withering plants she’d never gotten around to fixing.
She had tended instead to another dream rooted inside her—the call of Dovermere, of a destiny she felt so certain of and ended up being so wrong about—choosing to ignore the dream that had already blossomed all around her.
The budding relationship with Nisha that she had let shrivel up before it had had any real chance to bloom.
She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Whatever dream they chased after, they would do so together.