Jade
“Mortals.”
The Seer of Consequence steps forward, his ancient eyes sweeping over our broken group.
“The truths have been spoken. Judgment is complete. None among you chose death for another, which means you have passed our trial, and the gate will open.”
Relief should hit me, but it doesn’t, since apparently we only passed the trial because none of us murdered each other after being pitted against each other by the Geryon.
That’s not a victory. That’s a baseline for being human, and half of us barely cleared it.
“But before you pass...” The Seer’s eyes find mine, and my stomach drops. “A final observation.”
Of course there is. Because why would anything ever just be over?
“The Storm’s Champion was given a choice—destroy the Revenant or spare him. She chose to spare.”
Logan stills beside me.
“This choice will echo through your fate-thread, Jade Harrington.” The Seer tilts his massive head, studying me like I’m a bug under glass.
“Whether to salvation or destruction, I cannot see, since the thread refuses to show its end. But I do know this—the dead one will be your greatest weapon, or your greatest destruction. The weave holds both possibilities in equal measure.”
I open my mouth, then close it. Because what do you say to an ancient being who told you the person you love might destroy you, and the thread won’t show which way it ends?
Nothing. You say nothing. You just shove your shaking hands deeper into your pockets and keep breathing.
Gold and silver light ripples between the Pillars, and slowly, impossibly, the barrier parts.
Beyond the Pillars, I see the normal ocean—not the strange, stagnant sea below us.
“We’re leaving the Lost Islands.” The words fall out of me. “We’re going back home.”
Kieran moves to the wheel, and the boat lurches forward. Wind fills the sails—regular wind, not the eerily soft wind Aeolus withheld from the bag to get us here—and we’re moving to the gate between the Pillars.
I grab the railing to steady myself.
Evie hasn’t looked at me once since she walked away. She probably won’t look at me ever again.
I’ve lost my best friend.
I’ve also lost the Logan I knew and loved. The Logan who counted me through soul fire. The one who trained me in the Scorched Circles, who told me he loved me for the first time in the Fury Loop, who held me when I cried, and who made me feel like I mattered for the first time in my life.
He’s here, standing three feet away from me. But he’s also someone who drinks blood from his ex-girlfriend, lies with no tells, and has been dead for months while I fell in love with him.
At least now, I have the truth. The ugly, terrible, impossible truth.
Is it enough? I don’t know. I want to scream at him, and I want to bury my face in his chest, and the fact that I want both at the same time makes me feel like I’m losing my mind. My hands are gripping the railing so hard my fingers hurt, because if I let go, I’m not sure what I’ll reach for.
The boat passes through the barrier, and light washes over us. It’s warm and cold at the same time, like walking through a waterfall made of starlight. My skin tingles, and my magic stirs in my chest, recognizing the ancient power as we pass into the realm I’ve always called home.
And then, the Lost Islands are behind us, and the mortal realm stretches ahead, dark water under a familiar sky.
The Revenant will be your greatest weapon or your greatest destruction, the Geryon’s words echo in my head. The thread refuses to show its end.
Maybe that’s the point.
Maybe my threads don’t fit the pattern because I’m not supposed to follow a pattern. Maybe I’m supposed to weave my future on my own.
I look at Logan. Really look at him, for the first time since the Geryon ripped open his secret.
He’s watching the horizon, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides. The chain that holds the ankar token glints from his throat.
Three feet of empty deck separate us. Yesterday, that space was full.
His hand was finding mine, his fingers brushing my hair behind my ear when the wind blew it across my face.
Now the three feet are a canyon, and the air inside it is cold in a way that has nothing to do with weather, and it feels like the loneliest distance in the world.
He turns, our eyes meet, and my lungs seize.
Because he’s still Logan, with the same devoted eyes and quiet intensity that made me fall in love with him in the first place.
And my traitorous, stupid heart lurches toward him like a compass needle swinging north, because apparently learning that the love of your life is a supernatural monster whose soul no longer exists in his body doesn’t rewire the part of you that craves his presence like oxygen.