Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
T he stone doors slam behind me, and I am left in complete darkness. I may have found where the cure is hidden, but I don’t have any idea what lies ahead. Dawnlin set so many traps to keep the cure protected, so I can only imagine what is in store for me inside the mountain.
I blindly step forward into the darkness, and torches light along the walls, casting a glow only a few steps in front of me. I start to walk, using all of my senses to take in every detail and anticipate any attack that might come.
The tunnel winds out of sight, more torches lighting along the walls as I move. I walk for what seems like hours, winding deep into the mountain with nothing to guide me farther than a few paces at a time.
Is this it? Am I in an endless loop of tunnel, deep inside the mountain, with no way out? I stop abruptly and glance between where the tunnel is going, and where I came from, feeling panic start to rise.
The torches extinguish behind me. I take a step toward them, back toward the entrance, but unlike the ones in front of me, they don’t relight. The island is telling me I can’t go back. This must be right, and I’m not trapped.
I spin back around and press forward, still holding on to that hope. Step after step, the tunnel keeps winding, with no end in sight.
“I’ve got to be almost there,” I say out loud to no one, or maybe to the island.
Can Dawnlin hear me?
Soon I pause. The next set of torches isn’t lighting the way. I look around the narrow tunnel, but there is nowhere else to go. I step forward, toeing the line of the darkness before me and take in a deep breath. Even though it isn’t showing me the way, I need to trust it and move forward.
“Here goes,” I mumble.
I step into the darkness, and a large circular room opens up in front of me, carved from the stone of the mountain. Fiery torches light the walls, the room completely devoid of anything except some sort of decoration carved into the walls.
I look around, trying to figure out where to go next, what I need to do. There is nothing, not even an exit. As I slowly spin to take in all the detail, I realize the tunnel I’d come through is sealed behind me.
Trapped.
I am trapped in here. There is no way out, no obvious path to get the cure.
But it has to be in here.
I turn back toward the center of the room and look at the far side. Two stone stairs carved into the floor lead up to a platform. It reminds me of the throne room back in Blackwood, but there is no throne, only a small alcove carved into the far wall. I climb the stairs quickly and sprint to the alcove.
The stone is smooth inside the oval, and a small basin makes up the bottom. Just above the basin is a hole, smaller than my fist, with a stone spout beneath it .
This is it. This is where you get it.
I glance around, looking for something, anything, to hold the cure in. How could I have been so unprepared and come with no vessel to carry it in?
A booming voice startles me, stopping my frantic search. I whip my head around, searching the room for whoever is speaking.
I am alone.
It’s the island.
I shake my head, focusing on the voice, to process what it is saying. The voice is commanding, but calming, and I find myself overcome with a feeling of happiness and safety as I take in its words.
The healing waters of Dawnlin you seek,
To help a loved one sick and weak.
The waters better than any cure,
Leaving the sick or injured pure.
With hope you came unto this land,
To leave with the waters in your hand.
Searched high and low with all your might,
Battling darkness to step into light.
A few more tasks must be complete
Or else your time here obsolete.
Carve the name of the one you must save
In order to keep them from the grave.
The voice stops, the chamber falling silent again.
Carve the name of the one you must save.
Carve the name where?
I look at the alcove in front of me, but it is as smooth as the door behind the waterfall. I turn and that is when I realize what I didn’t see before.
The walls aren’t covered in an intricate design or pattern. They are carved with names . Names cover every square inch of the walls. Big, small, legible or not, the entire chamber is filled with the names of those Dawnlin has saved. They are forever part of this island, part of the magic of the place that healed them.
It brings tears to my eyes, knowing I am not alone. So many people before me had made this journey, had found this island and held hope in their hearts, in order to save someone they loved.
And they had.
This room is proof of that.
I run my fingers across the names, some of them in languages from neighboring kingdoms. Tears well in my eyes as I see that no matter who we are, or where we come from, hope has brought us together with a unified goal.
I find a small break in the names and run my fingertips over it. Here. This is where my mother’s name needs to be. I reach back and loosen the dagger from its sheath, a pang hitting my chest, knowing that I am not using my dagger from my kingdom to carve a piece of her into the island. Another moment Weston stole from me.
I carve, driving the sharp point into the stone until I am satisfied. I blow on the surface, pushing away any dust and bits of stone left inside the letters.
Lyla Holt.
I don’t write Queen, because to me she isn’t. She is my mother, and I am her daughter, longing for time with her.
I slide the dagger back into its sheath just as the voice speaks again, my task seemingly complete. I am ready for the next.
For eternity, the name remains
While hope and trust over this island reigns,
The second of which you must give
If you desire the person live.
A deal between you must strike
The terms once heard, you may dislike.
But trust of you is Dawnlin’s need,
Before the offer can proceed.
Upon the use of Dawnlin’s water
It matters not for son or daughter,
All memory of Dawnlin will cease to exist
For spreading its secrets, you might resist.
If on your return you are too late
The one you love one has met their fate,
Try as you might, your voice grows weak.
The secrets of Dawnlin you will not speak.
A drop of blood means you agree
Your memory of magic will be free.
This price an easy one to pay
To confer the waters without delay.
My jaw drops as the meaning hits me. If I agree to this, I will lose all memory of Dawnlin and the magic that helped save my mother.
Dane.
I would lose Dane. Fin and Mara, and the rest of the Voyagers that had become family to me. I’d waited my entire life to have friendships like these, and they are about to be ripped away.
Tears stream down my face, a gaping hole forming in my chest. How can I give up the love that I have for these people?
This is how the island protects itself. This is how it prevents anyone from knowing too much of the magic. The myth exists back in the kingdoms, but not actually where or how to get there. It is because as soon as someone finds it and uses it, all knowledge of it ceases to exist. And if they don’t, if they somehow choose to leave or don’t make it back in time, they are bound by the magic to keep it a secret.
Now I have a choice to make.
My kingdom, my mother, and my duty over the love and friendships I have found here. Am I willing to give up on a chance of having a loving mother to have loving friends?
If I don’t agree to this, is everything I have done worthless? Would I return to Blackwood empty handed, still having to fulfill my duties as queen only to live in misery, remembering all the love I left behind? Would it be better if I forget?
Would I even return to Blackwood?
I feel like I am being ripped apart.
I don’t know how I am going to tell Dane. It will be bittersweet. We knew this would come to an end, that Dawnlin’s never progressing time would not apply to us. But now that I found the cure, the others can as well. I can bring them to it, and we can go back and help our families, if they are still there to help.
The goodbye will not be easy. I won’t get to say goodbye to Fin, and now he won’t have the chance to help his sister because I can’t find him.
I wish I wasn’t alone. I wish Dane was here with me, helping me make this decision, telling me it is alright to let him, and everyone else go, because I know I only really have one choice.
I choke out a sob of acceptance.
I reach a shaky hand behind me and pulled out the dagger. Tears blur my vision as I look at the blade flickering in the light of the torches. I step up to the alcove that is now glowing brightly. I hold my hands in the alcove, over the basin, and press the sharp blade to the palm of my hand. A line of blood forms and I watch as the blood pools in my palm. My tears fall to the bottom of the basin as I clench my fist over the blood and turn my hand over.
The drops fall into the bowl, soaking directly into the stone and disappear with a small flash of light, just like my tears in the fountain back in Blackwood.
The voice booms around me again, and I have to concentrate to process the next words.
A selfless choice you did make
But more must be done for you to take
The healing waters for your use
In order to prevent outright abuse.
Deep inside the isle must look
Your heart will be read like an open book.
The magic of Dawnlin decides who is worthy
Your quest for the waters at its mercy.
Granted or not, the choice is not yours,
And this is how the isle ensures
The protection of Dawnlin and of the magic
So the story ends not in something tragic.
If deemed worthy, the water will flow,
The clear crystal liquid will pool below.
If empty handed you leave by dust,
In the magic of Dawnlin, you must trust.
I stand there stunned as the echo of the words fades. There is a chance that I won’t be granted the healing waters to bring home to my mother.
That can’t happen.
All of this would really have been for nothing. Doubt creeps over me, dimming the hope I had been grasping tightly onto.
A small glass vial appears from thin air and balances on the edge of the bowl. I pick it up and run my fingers over it. It amazes me that such a small amount of water would cure anything.
I drag my eyes to the spout and wait.
This is it, the moment of truth.
I hold my breath, waiting for the water to flow.
Please. Please.
I beg. I urge. I focus all of my energy on willing that water to flow. I stare at the spout, for I don’t know how long.
It doesn’t.
I clutch my chest as it implodes and fall forward, bracing myself on the edge of the bowl. My fingers grip it tightly, and sobs wrench through my body.
No. This can’t be happening.
I’m not worthy.
I look up through blurry tears at the spout, reaching out to touch it. It is bone dry, not a speck of water flowed.
Dawnlin thinks I am not worthy.
This was it. My last hope shattered.
Why wasn’t I worthy? What more could I have done? I want to save my mother, to bring her back to my father, and give myself a chance at a happy life with a loving parent. Did the island think my intentions are selfish? Isn’t everyone here for a somewhat selfish reason, so they don’t lose someone they love?
Why was it not enough?
If empty handed you leave by dust, in the magic of Dawnlin you must trust .
The last sentence echoes through my mind.
Trust? How can I trust it? I am angry and hurt. How is it fair for the island to determine whether my mother deserves to live or die?
I swipe angrily at my tears and push myself away from the bowl, and stumble back into the center of the room.
I’d done everything I could. I’d searched for answers from our world, I sought out texts and knowledge from healers all over. I even had hope for magic. It was all in vain.
The life that I knew back in Blackwood would not change.
I would return empty-handed, with no good explanation for why I disappeared from my duty for months.
I don’t have to return.
What is truly waiting for me back in my kingdom? A father who doesn’t care about me, who doesn’t believe I am capable of becoming queen? A lonely castle, an empty life, a loveless arranged marriage?
I don’t have to go back.
If no one thinks I am worthy, I don’t have to live the life that has been chosen for me. My father, Dawnlin, the kingdom, they can all think what they want.
I am going to choose a new path.
I am going to tell Dane I made up my mind.
I am staying.
My mother’s fate is sealed. The healing waters were the last hope.
I wasn’t going to use the little dust we had left to go home empty-handed, and seal my own miserable fate.
No.
I am staying. I found happiness and love here. I can help others as they come to the island, if they can come to the island. I can help Dane figure out how to replenish the dust, and I can show the rest of the Voyagers where the healing waters are so they can have a chance to be worthy. I can find the Castaways and save Fin.
I can have a purpose here .
I look around the chamber, my mind made up and eager to return to camp. A dark archway appears to the left of the alcove. I assume this was Dawnlin’s way of excusing me and asking me to leave. I don’t ask any questions. I want to get out of here.
I want to go home.