Chapter 9 Declan #3
Atikus stood by my side, his large, wrinkled hand resting heavily on my slender shoulder, ready to comfort and guide his last adopted son.
I’m sure he meant his presence to offer strength, to reassure me that I was not—and would never be—alone.
But there could be no such claim. Keelan had left, and, for the first time in my life, I was truly on my own. I’ve never felt so hollowed out, so empty, so utterly adrift—not since that day.
In the years that followed, I remained one of the most popular figures throughout the complex. The Mages who’d raised us still adored me, and my constant jokes and silly antics kept other students amused. Still, through it all, that empty pit of abandonment and loneliness shrouded my thoughts.
Everyone I ever loved had left me.
First our parents, whom I’d never really known, then Keelan, the brother who had become my world.
A seed of anger and pain planted itself within me, only to surface fully matured the moment Keelan and Atikus strode into the Rangers’ domain, as if they belonged there, as if it was their home and not mine.
I’d joined the Rangers to get away—to get far away.
I liked the job well enough, but my green cloak represented more than just a chance to serve; it was an escape.
Escape from the expectations of the Mages, escape from those ridiculous golden collars and the piteous looks of the people wearing them, and escape from all the talk of “the great Keelan Rea” and his steady stream of accomplishments, all of which underscored my utter failure to even find a path.
In my darkest, most private moments in the Melucian mountains, as I stared out at the vastness of nature, my mind wandered again to the idea of escape—escape from my pain and from the constant nagging of that little voice in my head that chided me for being lost,
from the dread of expectation each time I returned to civilization.
I dreamed of escape from the pity in the eyes of every Gifted person I met.
It would have been easy to walk off the edge of the world, to never be seen or heard from again, to never hurt again.
And then came Ayden Byrne.
I found myself grinning at the mere mention of his name.
Spirits, I hated him. He was so utterly arrogant and filled with his own self-importance. Everything about the man, from the way he dressed, to his speech, to how he always held his shoulders so perfectly straight, made me want to loathe him simply for breathing the same air.
I closed my eyes and pictured his smooth face, with its high cheekbones and perfect, carved jawline framed in a red-gold wreath of flame.
His lips were the first things to capture my sight, so pink and full, just begging to be kissed and nipped.
And then our eyes met, and somewhere deep inside, I knew I was no longer lost.
Ayden had found me.
I would never be alone again.
Warmth trickled up my arms and into my lungs. I hugged my arms around myself, wishing they belonged to another.
I couldn’t remember ever feeling so . . . whatever this was. I didn’t even know what to call it. The mere thought of Ayden made my blood pump faster and my body ache for his touch.
Being with him sparked something within me I thought long died out. He made me laugh. He made me dream.
Most of all, he made me hope.
But now, lying on a bed of sand on a distant island, far from the one man who filled me with awe, my old emptiness threatened to creep back into being. I’d been forced to leave Ayden behind, almost before we even had the chance to find each other.
Bitterness pricked at my tongue, its taste sour and cruel.
I glanced down at the little owl, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.
Something about merely looking at her made the pain, frustration, and anger .
. . evaporate. I didn’t understand the effect she had on me, but I couldn’t look at her and feel anything but happiness and peace.
She had the power to chase my darkness away, and I loved her for it.
Glancing back toward the stars, my mind returned to the present, to the journey ahead, to the Keeper and our quest for their magical aid—assuming they had any to give.
It still seemed ironic that I, the Mute among the team, had been sent in search of a magical solution.
I supposed my skills learned in the Ranger corps were ideal for a mission such as this—and it would free Keelan to continue his search for the missing Healer—but why not Sil, or anyone else with a Gift?
They would know how magic felt, how it worked beneath their skin—or whatever it did.
They would intuitively grasp everything I had never even experienced.
And yet, for the first time in my life, a small voice within whispered words of encouragement,
This is your path.
Despite the sweltering heat, I shivered.
Nothing could fully erase my bitterness toward Keelan—at least, not so quickly—but there was a sense of rightness to the voice I couldn’t quite grasp. I knew it spoke truly, and I breathed deeply at the realization.
Finally, the boy who’d spent his life escaping everything was headed toward something.
My eyes closed, and I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep filled with pleasant memories of red hair and bright blue eyes.