Chapter 19
Much like Soren had earlier, Reeve began to pace around the workroom, his agitation more concerning than the stillness he’d maintained for most of their discussion.
“Do you remember the story your parents used to tell us when we were kids?” he asked. “The one about the Guardian of Elverdine Isle?”
Viri blinked at him. Blinked again. Then threw back her head and laughed. “Elders, you can’t be serious?”
Reeve halted his pacing to cross his arms over his broad chest. “I told you earlier that I don’t need you to trust me, but I do need you to listen. Laughing isn’t listening.”
“Don’t worry, I heard you loud and clear,” Viri said, still chuckling. “I also know that whatever you’re about to say is going to be ridiculous. The Guardian of the Isle? Really, Reeve?”
“What do you remember about it?” he pressed.
Viri’s laughter faded. “This is hardly the time for fairy tales.”
He shot her a look. “Humor me.”
Baffled, Viri glanced at Jonas and Wynter, both of whom seemed to be on Reeve’s side—Jonas likely because he already knew what Reeve was going to say, and Wynter because she was dying of curiosity.
“Do you want the full bedtime story,” Viri asked dryly, “or will a summary do?” She couldn’t believe she was indulging him when it felt as if the whole island were burning around them.
“A summary is fine,” Reeve said.
“No, the full story,” Wynter requested. “What’s the Guardian of Elverdine Isle?”
“Not what, who,” Jonas corrected. “He’s part of an ancient legend, one not widely known.”
Wynter’s brows rose with intrigue, and she looked at Viri in expectation.
Giving in, Viri sighed and said, “You might as well sit back down for this.”
Wynter returned to the couch, and when Jonas sat beside her, she held her hands out for Walnut. “I sense I’m going to need bunny snuggles for this.”
“It’s not a scary legend,” he assured her.
“I didn’t think it would be. I just want an excuse to pet the floof.”
Jonas grinned and handed the rabbit over. “I can’t fault you there. Walnut snuggles are the best snuggles.”
“Elders save me,” Viri muttered, looking up through the glass dome in search of divine patience, only to become alarmed by how much lighter the lake was now, with dawn swiftly turning into sunrise somewhere above the water.
No wonder her tolerance was gone—she’d missed an entire night’s worth of sleep.
“I’m only going to say this once, so pay attention,” Viri warned, starting her own pacing around the lab.
“There had also better be a damned good reason for this waste of time.” She speared a look at Reeve, who remained in the middle of the room, his feet planted, his arms still crossed, but he gave a dip of his head to indicate there was.
“I’ll explain when you’re done,” he promised. “But I need to know what you remember first.”
Viri’s eyes narrowed. “I’m seventeen, not seventy. My memory’s as good as it’s always been.”
Reeve said nothing to that, though there was an odd tension about him, as if he was restraining himself from snapping back. Instead, all he said was, “Fabulous. Now prove it.”
Viri gritted her teeth, then started at the beginning, just like her parents used to.
“Once upon a time there were three young hunters: a husband, his wife, and their best friend. All of them were skilled, the husband especially so—until he was injured in a reaper attack and siphoned almost to death, leaving him weak and unable to do the one thing he felt he was born to do: hunt.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and continued, “Miserable and without purpose, he began to fade away, so his concerned wife and friend suggested they seek out the mythical Guardian of Elverdine Isle—a mage who had chosen not to depart with his ancient peers and instead stayed behind to watch over the island from his tower beyond the Mistwood.”
“Beyond the Mistwood?” Wynter repeated, wide-eyed. “But…there’s nothing beyond it. There’s no way through the blackmist—it covers the entire forest.”
Viri pinched her forehead. “Please, Wyn, no interruptions. This is painful enough.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Wynter smiled apologetically. “I’ll wait until the end.”
Grateful, Viri went on, “Legend claimed that anyone who found the Guardian would be granted a magewish—a treasure of incomparable worth, powerful enough to fulfill any request. It was assumed that no one would be able to reach him to claim such a prize, because even without the threat of the blackmist, the Mistwood was ever-changing and the path to the tower was always shifting. But what the Guardian didn’t know was that one of his fellow mages had left behind a magical map that could lead to his location, along with a set of talismans that could ward against the blackmist saturating the wood.
He also didn’t know that this map and one of the talismans had found its way to the family of the wife, handed down from generation to generation, providing the means for her husband to get his life back. ”
Viri kept pacing as she continued, “Guided by the map and protected by the talisman, the three hunters ventured through the Mistwood to the Guardian’s tower, and when they found him there, he was honor bound to gift them their magewishes—one each, no more, no less.
The husband used his straightaway and was instantly healed.
But his wife and their friend wanted to save theirs, so the Guardian gave them each a token and said that when they were ready, they could return the tokens and make their requests. ”
“I’ve never even heard of magewishes,” Wynter whispered to Jonas. “I love this story.”
Viri shared a beleaguered look with Reeve, whose lips twitched in response. She scrunched her nose up at him—which only made his lips twitch more.
“Time passed.” Viri spoke quickly now to hurry things along.
“The husband and wife had a child and longed for another, but the young mother found she couldn’t conceive again.
So she returned to the Guardian and used her wish.
Her womb opened and a second child arrived, their little family happy and complete.
” Viri’s tone lowered as the tale darkened.
“But disaster struck less than a year later, when their second-born was touched by the blackmist. The husband and wife knew there was only one way to save their precious babe—they needed their friend’s unused magewish.
And so, in an act of desperation, they stole the token and hurried back to the Guardian with their dying infant. ”
Wynter was at the edge of her seat, clutching Walnut so close that Jonas seemed tempted to pull his bunny back to safety.
“The Guardian wasn’t pleased,” Viri said.
“The wishes were meant to be one per person, but since they had their friend’s token, he reluctantly agreed to grant their request. Unfortunately, while they were debating it, the blackmist infecting the babe finished its work, absorbing the final speck of ellixen, and the child passed away. ”
A gasp from Wynter. “No!”
“Calm down, Wyn, it’s just a story,” Viri said, rolling her eyes.
“And don’t worry—the babe survived. The magewish had already been spoken, so the Guardian was bound by the laws of magic to fulfill the request. He did warn that there would be a steep cost to bringing a life back from death, and that he would need to bind the child to the magic of the island to do so, but the parents didn’t care what that meant as long as their babe was saved.
And so the Guardian granted their wish, the child was purged of the blackmist and filled with ellixen straight from the isle…
and their little family lived happily ever after. ”
Viri stopped pacing right in front of Reeve. “Did I remember everything to your satisfaction, oh doubting one?”
He ignored her sarcasm. “I’m very impressed. Gold star.”
“Wait—what happened to the friend?” Wynter asked. “Weren’t they angry about their magewish being stolen?”
“The story always ended at the ‘happily ever after’ part,” Viri answered. “I don’t know what happened beyond that. And just to reemphasize, it’s a story.”
Wynter’s face was contemplative as she stroked Walnut’s ears. “All stories come from somewhere.”
“I’d be guessing the friend was furious,” Reeve said, his eyes on Wynter, not Viri, as if looking for something in her reaction, but she only nodded.
“Same here,” Wynter agreed. “Talk about the ultimate betrayal.”
“Again, it’s a story,” Viri said firmly.
“How did you even hear it?” Wynter tilted her head to the side, her hair flowing like ink over her shoulder. “The Guardian, the magewishes—these aren’t common lore, and yet, you heard it as a bedtime story. How? Why?”
Viri knew she was going to regret answering before the words even left her mouth. “Because my family is supposedly descended from the husband and wife.”
Wynter’s eyes bugged out. “You’re related to the was-dead child who was revived with special magic?”
Viri shook her head. “No.” She bit her cheek. “Well, technically yes. But it could just be through the line of the wasn’t-dead firstborn.”
“Or it could be—”
“Either way,” Viri cut Wynter off before she could get ahead of herself, “it doesn’t matter, since it happened a long time ago—if at all—and even if I am a direct descendant of the was-dead babe, none of that special magic is in me.
” Or if it had been, it would have been given to the obelisks during her Impartation. “Stop gaping at me like that, Wyn.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Wynter said with attitude, “but it’s not every day that I learn my best friend is part of an ancient legend.”
“I’m not. My great-great-great-whatever grandparents are. That’s hardly newsworthy—we’re all related to someone with a story. Mine just happens to involve Guardians, magewishes, and unorthodox resurrection magic.”
“Don’t forget betrayal,” Reeve said, still watching Wynter, but his features lost their tension at whatever he saw. “That one’s important, too.”
“You’d know,” Viri said under her breath.