Chapter Six
Skylar Cathal
I contemplated not waking up.
For a fraction of a second, I allowed myself to imagine staying there. But dreams are not reality. It was not in my nature to give up and surrender, no matter how tempting the latter might be.
The wooden panels above my head flickered with the rays of the morning sun through the window in the door. I turned on my side in the soft covers, adjusting my gaze to the light. I’d slept through the night for the first time in two days, and Gods above, I needed it.
“Ready yourselves for the crossing!” Fjorda’s voice echoed, as rough as sea-salt winds.
Flinging the covers back, I quickly slipped into my boots.
My dark gray pants paired with a white long-sleeve tunic were perfect for the sailing conditions.
Before leaving, Gunnar almost convinced me that slaying the basilisk had earned me a second peak, but I couldn’t accept it.
To counter, I told him I’d consider it when I returned with the dagger, earning a true victory.
As I opened the door to my quarters, the morning sun’s rays decorated the horizon in a magnanimous display. The glorious pink and yellow kisses of color were blessed by the Mother herself and danced across the distant lands of the Inner Kingdom.
We had to sail the length of the continent before reaching the northern pass, the departure site adding an extra day to our journey. And once we passed through, it would only be a few more days to Solace.
The distinct scent of the captain announced his presence before he spoke. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I answered with a confident grin.
“Good. What do you have planned? I’ve tried crossing without Daxton a time or two—and it did not go well.”
“Do I want to know what happened?”
“Let’s just say this isn’t the first ship under my command. Others have been claimed by the sea for attempting to pass through without magic to part the way.” Fjorda crossed his arms and leaned against the paneled wall.
I reached into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the solidified eye of the basilisk. The second key of the trials thrummed with power of its own in my grasp, almost begging to be released.
Here goes nothing.
“This should do it,” I said, presenting the key to the captain.
Fjorda’s eyes widened as he noted the eight-pointed star in the center, his gaze darting to the tattoo on my arm. “Let’s hope so.”
The ship’s sails were fluttering in chaos, a clear sign that we were nearing our intended destination.
“Tie them down!” Fjorda hollered as he walked with me to the front of the ship, pointing to the sails. “Ready the oars. I believe we’ll need the extra push through.”
“You didn’t have those out last time.”
“No, but there’s a different ambiance to the waters this time around.” Fjorda stroked his blond-speckled beard, deep in thought, almost like he was listening to guidance from the waters themselves. “Trust me, we’ll need them.”
“The sea is alive today, Captain,” a sailor said, his voice low and edged with unease. “The currents are restless. Churning, racing, spiraling in ways I’ve never felt before. This crossing isn’t like the others. There’s a tension in the air, a warning in my bones.”
I hesitated, glancing at the darkened waters below. “What should we fear in the depths?”
The fae sailor’s gaze flickered to me, his expression turning. “Some things, Champion,” he said gravely, “are better left unknown.”
My instincts told me not to push the matter further, and for once, I was inclined to listen.
“Your focus lies on getting us through. Mine is on keeping us alive on the journey across the seas,” Fjorda said.
I nodded. “Very well, I’m trusting you.”
“Likewise.”
I stepped into position at the bow of the ship and braced myself, the salt wind tugging at my sleeves.
A faint trickle of raw magic prickled across my skin before I connected with the dominant power of the veil.
My animal stirred just beneath the surface, her essence sharpening, awakened by the veil’s wild magic.
In my left hand, I held the eye of the basilisk, the power radiating from the small orb against my palm.
Like a curtain drawn back by invisible hands, a route through the barrier appeared.
The ship surged ahead with the synchronized power of the rowers, its rhythm steady and unyielding.
At the forefront, the key glowed faintly, cutting through the unseen forces and carving a path forward.
Pricks of fire danced along my nerves as we moved through the veil. And just like before, it wasn’t until we passed through the outer barrier that I finally saw the beauty of the magic hovering around me.
The crystalline colors danced around us, but unlike before, I didn’t feel the intense waves of desire and lust running wild. There was a thrilling skip in my heart rate, but nothing compared to the first time I crossed.
“You’re holding up better on this voyage, I see,” Fjorda commented. “I’m glad to see your plan worked.”
I turned to him, still holding the eye. “This crossing feels different.”
The magic crackled along my skin, my senses sharp, alert, but the all-consuming heat I’d felt with Daxton was absent. No breathless longing. No flood of adrenaline threatening to drown me.
“Each one is,” he answered plainly. “Magic is as wild and unpredictable as the sea. And—” Fjorda paused as a half-grin slid along the corner of his mouth. “It is also known to heighten magic already present.”
Our mate bond.
I silently cursed my shifter half for not being able to recognize the bond sooner.
“The veil’s magic,” I whispered. “It’s strange how familiar it feels.”
“Like waking up from a dream,” Fjorda answered, leaning over the front and closing his eyes, allowing the sparkling crystalline colors to dance across his face. “But not remembering the details.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it,” I said, arching my brow.
Fjorda kept his gaze toward the veil opening. “Not much longer now.”
Suddenly, the air cleared around us as the crystallized layer disappeared, revealing a wide-open sea with nothing behind us.
I retracted my arm, gently cradling the key in my palm as the orb began to crumble and vanish into specks of dust. The winding winds circled around me, almost as if they were alive, carrying the final remains of the fallen serpent king and whisking it away across the vast open waters to lands unknown, finally freeing him.
Perhaps now, the basilisk would find peace. I hoped that it would.
“Well, it seems that was a one-way key.”
“The dagger,” I said, twirling my hands in the wind, ensuring every last speck of the basilisk was freely floating away.
“The dagger of the alpha can cut through anything, and since it is the third key to these trials, the magic of the blade will be able to part the way through and allow us to return.”
“Clever.” Fjorda clicked his tongue.
“Indeed. Now comes the more difficult task of obtaining it.”
“Should be simple enough?”
I turned and glowered at Fjorda. “Sure, right.” I scoffed.
“Isn’t it, though?”
I raised a brow at him and laughed under my breath.
“What?” Fjorda replied, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re trying to save Valdor. The wilt has likely spread to the mainland and through Solace by now. Surely, your alpha will relinquish the dagger?”
“It’s more than that.” I paused, dread pooling in my stomach.
“It’s the structure and hierarchy of our people.
Our culture. To carry that weapon signifies more than just the title of alpha.
It means you are sworn to protect the pack with your life, to guard it with your final breath in this world.
To carry the dagger means you are bound to your people, and they to you. ”
I knew in my heart that the alpha, whoever it would be, would not release the dagger willingly. It wasn’t in our nature.
“I will ask, but if the alpha denies my request, I’ll have to issue a formal challenge and win.”
“I see,” Fjorda answered, stroking his chin. “Then you best prepare yourself and refrain from sulking around my ship like you’ve been the past few days. It would be embarrassing if you showed up starved, half-dead with exhaustion, and had to challenge the strongest shifter in your lands.”
“True.” He had a valid point. I couldn’t deny that. “How long until we reach Solace?”
“Three days if the winds are in our favor,” Fjorda said with a grin. “Now, aren’t you glad I called for the oars?” He winked when his eyes found the mountain peak on my tunic. “I heard rumors through the harbor that you’ve been training in Silver Meadows.”
“I have,” I answered, my mind fondly thinking of Daxton and Gunnar. A half-smile dared to cross my face, even though I didn’t believe I deserved to feel that spark of happiness.
“Then my advice…” Fjorda clasped a hand on my shoulder. “Win your challenge, Champion.” And with that, the captain pushed off the railing and took his leave.
I smiled as he turned away, thanking him for lighting a fire under my ass.
I had work to do.