Chapter 20 Declan
Ilay crumpled on the ground with my knees wrapped in my arms. My stubborn sobs refused to subside, and the throbbing in my chest felt like my heart was trying to break free and run away.
A hand settled onto my shoulder, and I nearly jumped out of my own skin, shuffling back until I slammed into the wood of the cabin’s wall.
The soothing notes of a woman’s voice lifted my gaze, as if an unseen hand had lifted my chin. “Oh, my beautiful boy.”
An ageless woman kneeled a couple of paces away, strength and comfort flowing through her steel-gray eyes.
Her face bore no lines, a perfect cast of ebony porcelain, unmarred by time.
She was so remarkable that I was sure I would have remembered if we had met.
And yet, there was something so familiar, so intimate, about her presence.
I was drawn to her, but not in the way one is forced or pulled against their will.
My heart longed to be near her, to embrace her, to know her, and to love her.
She scooted forward and cupped my cheek.
My shattered heart reformed and swelled at her touch.
Tears brimmed in her wide eyes, and her voice quavered as she spoke. “I thought I might never see you again. How you’ve grown.”
My eyes darted around, and I realized for the first time I was no longer in the Keeper’s cabin. Rough walls of torn stone surrounded me in a dimly lit cavern that stretched beyond my vision.
My head swam. When had I moved from the cabin? Where was the Keeper? And órla?
“Where—what? Who are you?” I stammered.
The woman’s confident air faltered.
“My name is Kelsa Rea. Declan, I’m . . . your mother.”
I stared, unseeing, yet drinking her in.
Her claim was beyond belief; and yet, my mind raced, searching for memories, for clues, for anything that might prove her words true.
I wanted to believe her.
“My mother? That’s not possible. She died—”
“I did not die.”
“Spirits, I’m in another vision. It has to be that. This can’t be real.” I swatted tears from my face and braced myself to stand.
Kelsa pressed her hand to my shoulder, holding me down. Her grip was gentle, yet sure. “No, Declan, this is real. There are no more visions.”
“But . . . the Keeper . . . his tests? The candle . . . and Atikus was shot. Keelan and Ayden . . .”
Fresh tears burst forth as each vision cast into my mind by the trial replayed itself in my memory.
The cave closed in around me, feeling as though its walls would crush me if I didn’t move, if I didn’t run.
“You passed the Keeper’s test, offering yourself in sacrifice for others—for everyone. In choosing to die so others might live, you proved your heart worthy of the next steps along the Path. It wasn’t one of the choices offered, but it was the only acceptable one.”
Kelsa’s hand squeezed my shoulder with the caress of a mother.
“I am so proud of you, my son, so very proud.”
My head reeled.
I gaped at Kelsa, afraid to move or speak.
How could any of this be real? My mother died years ago, and here this woman, who looked nothing like Keelan or me, claimed to be—
“I knew you’d make the right choice. You’re a lot smarter than you look.” órla hopped into my lap and cocked her head.
Despite everything, I laughed. “Uh . . . thanks . . . I think?”
“Anytime! Can you scratch my head while you talk?”
Tension drained away with the simple act of scratching the owl’s feathery head.
Kelsa waited patiently as I scanned about, desperate to gather my wits before attempting to confront whoever stood before me.
Two torches hung in rings on either side of the grotto—smokeless azure flames dancing on ends that never appeared to char.
On a round wooden table in the center of the room sat a pitcher and two glasses made of white stone.
At the opposite end, the cavern opened into a tunnel whose walls flickered with the same magical light.
“Come, sit. Have some wine and rest.” Kelsa rose and padded to the table, her bare feet slapping against the stone floor.
Without turning to see if I followed, she poured silky red liquid into each glass and sat.
Her golden dress swirled and flowed as if alive.
I could barely tear my eyes from its hypnotic churning.
Curious, I stood and set órla on the table, then fell into a chair. I struggled with where to look and what to think. The past few hours had taken me to the edge of the world and had destroyed everything I knew and loved. Now, I was offered a precious gift I thought lost forever?
If this woman speaks truly.
Exhaustion warred with a frayed heart as I took a sip of whatever Kelsa had poured in my cup. My fatigue vanished, and the anguish in my soul eased.
“This is the same wine from the caves with the gates, isn’t it?”
“We do allow ourselves a few luxuries.” Kelsa offered a slight grin.
We sat in silence for a long moment as I finished my glass and poured a second.
Kelsa drew in a breath, and her brow creased. “Declan . . . I know you’ve struggled with who you are, with who you’re supposed to be. I’m here . . . I want to help you now.”
Simmering anger I hadn’t realized lived within me bubbled over. “How could you know that? How could you know anything about me? They told us you died, but I see that was a lie. You didn’t die. You just didn’t care enough to stick around. You left us.”
Kelsa looked away, stung.
She had seemed so strong when I lay curled on the floor; yet now, suddenly, she appeared small and unsure.
“I’m sorry. I’m . . . so sorry.” Her voice was a whisper on the wind. “Leaving you and Keelan was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. There hasn’t been a single day that passed without you in my mind and heart, but we had no choice. Please . . . you must believe me.”
Fire blazed within me, and I stood to put distance between us. “You always have a choice. Isn’t that what that stupid test was all about? You chose to walk away from us. I was so young, I couldn’t even picture you in my mind, couldn’t remember a single moment with you or our father.”
Rage swelled.
How many nights had I fallen asleep wondering why I was unworthy of a mother’s love? Wondering why she and Father had abandoned us, had cast us aside. Wondering if I would ever be good enough.
My only consolation was a lack of recollection. Where doting parents should have lived in my mind, only darkness dwelled. I had been too young, too innocent to remember.
“But Keelan—he was old enough to remember everything,” I spat, wishing venom flew from my lips.
“Whatever you did stripped him of your face, but he remembered having a mother. He spent years crying in his bed at night when he thought no one was watching, years telling me stories of you and father,
desperate to recount every moment he’d ever spent with you so he wouldn’t forget anything else and lose you a second time. It killed him to watch his memories fade from his mind. You did worse than die; you stole yourselves from him.”
“Declan—”
“He thought Atikus lied when he said you died, and I think that made it worse for him. In his heart, he knew you were alive—and you just didn’t care enough to stay.”
I stormed across the cavern and pressed my back against the wall.
My anger poured out, a waterfall of emotion released from the dam built so long ago.
“He spent his whole life trying to protect me—to protect everyone—but he couldn’t even protect himself. When nights came, and he cried himself to sleep because he wasn’t good enough or strong enough or . . . whatever . . . to keep you there, he couldn’t save himself. That was your job,
and you walked away from it.”
I stared into the wall opposite where I stood, unwilling to meet Kelsa’s gaze.
I could feel her staring, hear her quiet tears.
A part of me wanted to run and wrap my arms around her, to tell her it would be all right now that we were together—but the greater part bore such resentment, so raw and wretched, despite years to smooth sharp edges.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think.
The silence was broken as Kelsa removed a silver pendant from her neck and placed it on the table. My eyes snapped to the locket. It was a simple piece, unetched and unadorned, with only a face of unmarred, polished silver reflecting the torchlight.
Kelsa stood, then glanced at the locket and stepped away from the table, surrendering the space.
When I didn’t move, órla tottered across the table, put one talon on the bottom of the locket, and pushed up with her beak, popping the pendant open. Silver flared with Light the color of the torch flames, then living images shimmered into existence above the opened piece.
I edged toward the table and stared in wonder as a baby with a mop of unruly blond hair squirmed.
I could hear its giggles.
The image shifted to a rust-topped toddler chasing a scruffy puppy. The boy’s infectious laughter and the puppy’s tiny growls echoed throughout the cavern.
The final shift revealed the older boy, now over four and a half feet tall, clinging to the back of a pony as a lean man with flaxen hair braced him with his hand.
“I didn’t leave you,” Kelsa whispered as she returned to her seat and stared at the images. “I took you with me, as much as I could.”
My own voice caught in my throat. “I . . . I still don’t understand. Why did you leave?”
“Some things are larger than us, larger than everything. You talk of protecting Keelan, but what if the world cried out for protection? Could you turn your back on everything? On everyone?”
“So, tell me. Whatever this is, just say it. Stop with the riddles and tests and lies. I’m tired of . . . all of this.” I waved my hand around the room.
Kelsa’s eyes pleaded.
I could feel her anguish and guilt, but also her love—intense, overwhelming love.
Her feelings filled me, as the wine had filled our cups, and more visions flared in my mind.
I watched a younger Kelsa as she sat at the same table with her head buried in her arms, as sobs battered the peaceful silence of the cavern.
A man in a golden robe stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder.
His tears flowed as freely as hers.
She stood, and they held each other and wept.
The depth of their sorrow crashed over me like waves against a rocky shore.