Epilogue
Isla woke disoriented, blinking the world into focus.
She was staring up at the arched wooden beams of the infirmary.
The air in the room was cool, but a comforting warmth bled into her hand.
Turning her head to the side, her eyes fell on Vaelin, slumped in a chair next to the cot she lay in, his hand enveloping hers.
She drank in his features. Aside from looking exhausted, he appeared healthy, his colouring returned to normal.
He wore a thin, linen tunic, leaving it loose and unbuttoned, without a single black line of shadow tracing what she could see of his chest. She exhaled, feeling a shudder of relief roll through her.
He jerked awake, as though hypersensitive to her every breath, his eyes instantly finding hers.
“Hi,” she said simply. And he smiled, his dimple on full display.
“Lyra mentioned you wanted to speak with me,” Isla said.
They stood in the Great Library, Asmarin gazing out of an astonishing stained glass window that arced from ceiling to floor. She’d been here many times over the past week, and still, Isla could not help but marvel at the beauty of the library.
The Seer drew her eyes from the window, meeting Isla’s gaze.
“I wanted to let you know that those suffering from the illness in The City have all shown remarkable improvement since the battle, as we saw with those in the infirmary. In fact, the strength of the illness itself seems to have waned enough that we have been able to cure many by applying our usual healing remedies.”
Isla’s heart seemed to swell in her chest, a combination of cautious hope and relief building there.
She clasped her fingers together, spinning her mother’s ring around her finger as the Seer continued, “I am beginning to suspect that your unlocking the first shard has slowed the progression of the illness, as well as the looming calamity. There is something vaguely similar in one of the texts Lyra has been studying that lends some credence to this. Until now, we weren’t able to discern its meaning.
It is not a cure in and of itself, but an unexpected boon nonetheless. ”
“I—” Isla began, but broke off, her pulse thrumming rapidly in her throat as the tiniest curl of hope swirled in her chest. “That is wonderful news,” she managed.
Asmarin offered her a small smile, before her expression fell back into seriousness. Isla felt that tendril of hope ebb in response, her body tensing for a blow.
“I also believe that your unlocking of the memory summoned the Hollowborne,” Asmarin continued.
“The memories you unlock are directly connected to healing the cracks that have led to The Shattering and preventing its recurrence, and therefore the very existence of the Hollowborne.
They were forgotten once. I do not believe they are keen on being forgotten again. “
Isla swallowed a wave nausea. She was the reason The City had been attacked, the reason the centuries old perimeter wall had all but crumbled.
“They’ve been tracking me since before I even knew about the shards,” she said, her voice strained as things fell into place in her mind.
“Even before we arrived in The City, I heard voices in the sands. They lured me into a sandstorm. But… to what end?”
“They are drawn to memory,” Asmarin said simply, “and you are memory incarnate.”
Isla willed her breathing to slow, her pulse beating rapidly in her neck.
She squeezed her hands tighter, fighting against the instincts that screamed at her to run, to go home, to reject this impossible quest. Instead, she exhaled a shaky breath, casting her gaze along the stained glass window as icy unease curled up, settling at the base of her spine.
“So, every memory shard I unlock will stave off The Shattering for a time, slow its effects. But—”
“—it will simultaneously call to the Hollowborne, threatening your life and the lives of those around you. Yes.” Asmarin finished for her.
Isla nodded, biting the inside of her cheek, using the sharp pain to ground herself. She turned her eyes back to Asmarin, her eyes tracing the woman’s silver hair and the faint lines at the corners of her eyes. Markers, she now knew, of an exceptionally long-lived life.
“Have you Seen what lies in store for me? Will I be successful?”
Asmarin shrugged, her expression unreadable.
“In some paths, I have seen you fall, broken and shattered in more ways than one. In others, you prevail, but at a great cost you are unable to live with, the rot eating away at you for the rest of your days. In very few do you achieve what you seek.” The Seer held Isla’s eyes, tilting her head in some offering of sympathy before continuing.
“Isla. You are determined to be an island, but even islands are shaped by the tides. Do not mistake yourself as a burden to others. You are each one piece of a much larger puzzle that has yet to come together.”
It had taken Vaelin two full days to feel fully himself. He had begrudgingly acquiesced to Isla’s insistence that he continue to rest after she had awakened, recovered from her own brush with burnout.
She’d saved his life. Of that he had no doubt.
When he closed his eyes he could still feel the warmth of her magic enveloping him, tethering his soul back to this plane of existence.
When he’d regained consciousness just to watch her collapse, the tang of burnout stinging his nose, his heart had stopped beating in his chest so abruptly he’d thought he had immediately undone all her hard work.
Ignoring the screaming of his muscles and newly knitted flesh, he’d lifted her into his arms and into her own cot where the healers had milled about like eager ants, reassuring him that she’d recover just fine after a rest. When a Novice had suggested he move back to his own cot, the glare he had levelled at her sent the blood draining from her face.
Someone had brought him a chair shortly after, along with his tunic, newly stained with the blood that wept from his torn stitches.
Mere hours after Isla had awoken, she’d adequately berated him for popping several stitches and having the audacity to try to die without her permission, before ordering him to his bed chamber until he’d made a full recovery.
It had been three days, now. Beyond sending a hawk to the King reporting what they’d learned, he’d been going out of his skin not training, not doing something. Especially with all that lay ahead of them, however unclear that may be.
He hated resting, being still. Evric had been down at the training yard almost every day, having sustained few injuries in the battle.
In fact, it seemed to Vaelin that Evric felt because he hadn’t almost died in the battle, he hadn’t contributed as much as the others.
Never mind that he had saved all their skins with his fire on numerous occasions, both in the battle with the Hollowborne and in countless others.
When he visited Vaelin, Evric boasted about the hits he’d landed on the Shifter in the training yard, Aurelia there to keep the two of them from killing each other.
Something had been going on with Aurelia, too — her demeanour had seemed oddly haunted when she’d dropped in on him, but Vaelin couldn’t quite put his finger on its source.
He’d been surprised to learn she hadn’t been logging endless hours in the infirmary alongside Isla.
Now, at last, Isla had released him from the prison that was this bed chamber. They would convene today to finalize their plans to depart The City, moving forward to whatever came next.
He emerged from the bath chamber, a towel slung around his waist, rubbing another against his hair. One step into the room, tension flooded his body and he froze, then relaxed. Asmarin stood in the middle of his bedchamber, unannounced.
He blinked. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
“Clearly,” she responded dryly, seemingly unbothered by his state of undress. “I had hoped to catch you before you departed.”
“Oh?”
“There’s more to you, too, than meets the eye,” she said, as though speaking about the weather.
But he wouldn’t bite. “Not interested,” he said. “This isn’t about me.”
“You’re wrong. It is about both of you, and neither of you.”
He took a steadying breath, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Godsdamned Seers. Impossible to get a straight answer out of. But the austere woman continued, narrowing her eyes at him as she took a step towards him.
“You and the healer have some impossibly difficult choices ahead of you. If it comes to down to it, a choice between love and duty, between loss and triumph, I wonder… what choice will you make?”
“Isla,” he said, without hesitation, and his voice rang with a finality that echoed the heartbeat in his chest. “I will choose Isla, always.”
She smiled then, but it brought him no comfort.
“I suppose we shall see.”
Vaelin watched her take her leave, golden robes fluttering in her wake, as he brushed off the unease that hummed beneath his skin.
“Asmarin said the Hollowborne were not defeated, only beaten back,” Lyra’s voice carried through the meeting chamber in the Great Library.
They sat around the same, oval table they had mere days ago, though to Isla, it felt as though weeks had passed.
Vaelin sat on her left, having made a full recovery from near-death, as strong and steady beside her as ever.
Across the table, Aurelia was quiet and withdrawn, picking at a fingernail.
The fae seemed to have turned inward on herself since learning how her magic interacted with the illness.
Isla’s eyes flicked to Drae, who kept glancing at Aurelia, concern etched into his brow.
At the head of the table, Evric leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed before him.
He threw occasional glares at the Shifter, but it seemed that the two of them had come to some sort of stalemate since the battle.
On Aurelia’s other side sat Lyra, her expression serious as she mulled over what Isla had shared with them all regarding Asmarin’s conclusion about the effects of unlocking the memory shards.
“She also believes that what we experienced wasn’t anywhere near the full extent of what they are capable of,” Lyra continued. “That they were dipping a toe in the water, so to speak. Testing our defences. Chances are any subsequent encounters will be even worse.”
A beat of tense silence passed and Evric shifted in his seat. “So, what now?”
Isla leaned forward, jaw set determinedly. “Now,” she began, “I find the remaining memory shards. Regardless of their calling to the Hollowborne, I won’t let The Shattering come to pass - now, or again in the future. I won’t let innocent people die when there’s a chance I could change things.”
She glanced up to find everyone’s eyes on her, and swallowed.
“I’ll be starting in Terravern,” she continued. “It’s where the first shard pointed me. Somewhere in the northeastern part of the realm. Terravern is likely the least hostile of the remaining options, and I can make a brief return home to check on my family, before… continuing.”
“Why are you acting like you’re going to be doing this alone?” Evric asked, leaning forward to plant his elbows on the table before him. Isla blanched, and Evric raised an eyebrow. “You think you’re gonna have an easy time giving us the slip?”
“I—” she began.
“I’ll tell you one thing, he’s not going to be letting you out of his sight, that’s for sure,“ Evric motioned to Vaelin at her side, smirking. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a lovesick pup.”
Vaelin frowned, eyes narrowing at his friend. Across the table, even Aurelia’s lips twitched upward. Isla’s cheeks heated, but she shook her head.
“It’s too dangerous. Thank you, but I can’t ask you to put yourselves at risk like that for me.”
Aurelia’s small smile was sincere as she, too, leaned forward. “Isla, you’re not getting rid of us that easily.”
“Danger or not, you’ll never find anything without me,” Lyra clipped from across the table, her hands curled into stubborn fists. “I am a walking record of two years worth of untangled historical research that you cannot afford to leave behind.”
Isla held her gaze for a moment. And though her protective instincts screamed at her to deny Lyra, to tell her to stay put in The City, to lock her up to ensure her safety and throw away the key…
she knew it was time to let go, to treat Lyra as the capable adult that she was.
So she nodded. For a moment, Lyra blanched, her lips parting with genuine shock.
Then, she snapped her mouth shut, the faintest smile tracing her lips.
“You’re not alone, Isla,” Vaelin said quietly.
A pleasant shiver ran up the back of her neck as the deep rumble of his voice seemed to sink into her bones. She turned to him, seeing the depth of affection and commitment that shone in his eyes. She knew he meant more than just this quest to locate the shards. He meant in all things, always.
As she glanced around the room at them all - her friends - her family.
She marvelled at how far they had all come in such a short time.
Was it even possible? Despite the odds stacked against them, could they heal this broken world, together?
And it struck her then that perhaps leaning on others didn’t make her weak - perhaps, it made her strong.
“All right then,” Isla said, looking back to Lyra. “Let’s go home.”