Chapter Nineteen
We landed in the mud on the edge of the cliff. The rain and wind lashed us, but I had never been so happy to feel solid ground beneath me. I lay gasping, relishing how the soil felt beneath my fingers and against my bruised and bloody face.
The remaining pines hissed at me in anger and fear, and guilt wrapped around my heart like a vise, but we were alive.
Jace and Shae were still in the water, however, and there was no time to lose.
I pushed myself to my hands and knees and crawled toward the cliff’s edge, trying desperately to see anything through the rain.
There. Eleven o’clock, a few hundred metres out.
Jace was flailing, his one arm raised over his head as the waves crashed over him.
I couldn’t see Shae, but she must be close.
Did she know how to swim? I had no doubt with Jace’s military training that he was a good swimmer, but neither would last long in these conditions.
And even if they didn’t drown, Georgian Bay, frigidly cold even at the height of summer, would find another way to kill them.
Owen crouched beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I pointed out over the water. “There!”
Owen nodded, immediately looking for a way down the cliff.
“This way!” he shouted, and the two of us scrambled along the cliff, leaving Sylvia and Todd behind.
We found what looked to be a trail leading through the pines and brush, and picked our way down the rocks and roots, our hands bloody and fingernails ripping as we slipped and slid in the rain.
I fell hard on my hip and yelled in terror as I tilted into the empty space before me, but Owen grasped my backpack and hauled me in.
I only had time for a few panicked breaths before we began scrabbling down the trail again.
At last, we reached the bottom of the cliff, the waves battering the rocks and spraying us in mighty white breakers. I could barely see in front of me. We could only hope Jace was still where we’d seen him and Shae was nearby.
“Stay here!” Owen yelled. Before I could answer, he set down his sword then ran to the edge of the rocks, diving into the deep waters.
Owen had disappeared from my view as well now, and I screamed into the storm. I needed to follow him or access my magic. Do something.
I took a step toward the edge of the rocks, but a voice, fluid and resonant, stopped me from continuing any farther. Why do you seek what lies beneath my waves?
The Waterstone Guardian. I felt her presence in the marrow of my bones. Something told me to stay where I was, to not turn around and lay eyes on the figure behind me.
“To restore the seal of Craos.” My voice trembled only slightly. I was surer this time than I had been with Aed. I knew who and what I was:
A dark Druid.
A Druid who used anger to access her magic.
Odd that you of all people would want to restore the seal.
“Is it?” I asked, confused. “I want to defeat Craos as much as you do. He is a threat to my world, and he took my friend. I need to save him.”
We shall see. Many come with purpose. Few bring truth. If you would take from the water, you must give what lies deepest within you.
I swallowed. “What must I give?”
Your mind. Your memory. Your intent. I will test their shapes. Hold fast to who you are lest you be unmade.
The waves and storm disappeared, and I was transported to a cave, echoing with the soft rippling of calm waters that shimmered and glowed with eerie clarity.
The pool stirred and from its centre rose a shape, not fully formed, but with arms of water and a face that rippled and changed each moment.
The Waterstone Guardian hovered above the surface, her form flickering between woman and wave.
There was a familiarity to her features. I knew her, but I couldn’t place her.
Extending a translucent hand, she pointed downward. Far below, nestled in a bed of silt between rocks scattered like gems, gleamed the Waterstone, its black surface and etched symbol catching the light from above.
I hesitated only briefly, stamping down the flash of terror I experienced whenever I was about to enter water.
Then I set my glasses aside and dove, sinking into memory, and the world above me vanished in a rush of bubbles.
The cold water numbed me and gripped my chest, stealing my breath.
The silence here was otherworldly, broken only by my heartbeat.
The water darkened the farther down I swam, but my strokes were sure.
The Waterstone Guardian appeared before me in the water, her hair waving around her like kelp, her body undulating in the currents.
And then sound. A child’s laughter. Mine. Memory enveloped me, and I sank even farther. Playing with my parents. Love, joy, and safety wrapping me in their warm cocoons, and I never wanted to leave.
The memory twisted, and I watched my parents’ car crash into the river. I screamed, helpless to do anything as my entire world disintegrated before me. I couldn’t stop the water from rising. It was my fault. My failure.
Who are you?
“Darkness. Like Aed.”
Why do you think that?
“I almost killed Sylvia. I killed the Tree Spirits. I am a destroyer. When I lost my parents, I lost the light and goodness within me. I lost everything that night.”
Did you? Death is a part of life. It shapes you, yes, but without it, joy and love would not shimmer so brightly.
Humans live their lives well not despite death, but because of it.
Although it ends you, death also begins you, again and again, in every choice you make.
To love, create, and live while you can.
Not forever, but fully. The Veil Walker understands this. I will ask one more time. Who are you?
I had no idea.
My world shifted, and I found myself in the centre of a great battle.
Around me the chaos of a storm whipped at my hair and skin, flaying me and grinding me down.
Druids surrounded a great yew, chanting and calling on the forces of the Tree Spirits.
Human armies, both on the ground and in the air, battled wraiths, like the one that appeared in Charles’s living room.
Shadowbane, Sylvia had called them. A vast rift split the sky, and Craos emerged from a bloodred gate.
The final battle. The last fight for humanity’s very survival.
And we were losing.
I stood in the middle of it all, the last bastion against Craos.
Who was I?
Was I more than the rage and darkness within me? Was I more than the grief that had followed me since childhood?
I was assaulted by doubts and insecurities, fears and guilt.
Loneliness. The worry that I was never good enough.
Never brave enough. Never pretty enough.
Never. Enough. The guilt of losing Charles, the shame of being cheated on, the devastation of surviving my parents’ car crash—all of it was the darkness worming its way under my skin.
Craos called to me to accept that darkness and join forces. With him.
Aed called to me to embrace my rage and release her upon the world.
But Owen also stood before me. He was my calm in an ocean of chaos, the rock to which I clung, my safety, my peace. He reached for me, and I for him.
I felt my mother’s hand on my hair as she softly kissed my forehead, my father’s strong arms wrapped around both of us. I would forever carry memories of their love and strength.
My friends were here as well. Jace, who felt like a brother. Shae, my heart sister. Charles: my neighbour, my friend, the grandfather I always wanted.
Druids and soldiers fought around us, giving their lives to protect our world and way of life.
The spirits of the trees and plants and animals called for help. From me.
I gathered them all to me. Connected to them and drew strength. I was not alone.
Owen strained against the storm that held him back from me. Our fingertips touched—barely, but it warmed my soul. He was here. With me, and for me.
I was not Aed.
I was more than my dark emotions.
I was first of my kind in thousands of years. Traveller of the Root Paths. Leader of the last Druids.
Student. Teacher. Lover of books and learning and stories about faraway places.
Animal lover. Nature lover.
Strong. Kind. Funny. Interesting. Beautiful.
I was Kira Blackwell.
I was me. I was worthy, and I was enough.
I faced the darkness within me and blasted it with a light so powerful that it sizzled throughout me.
I banished it from my skin, from me. The storm stilled.
Everyone around me froze as if I had stopped time itself.
Owen’s warm eyes focused on me even in his stillness, wrapping me in love and strength.
Behind him, Craos rose. Kira, he hissed. Come to me.
No. The pull of him disappeared, and only the pull of Owen and my friends, of me, remained.
I had already won, and he didn’t even know it.
I smiled and stepped around Owen.
Craos reared back, confused at the change in me.
No, I repeated, marching toward him, my strides growing longer.
Fear snaked into his red-rimmed eyes.
No, I repeated, and I ran straight at him.
Pure, white power built within me, power that I drew from my friends, from the tips of the tree roots deep underground to the ends of the branches reaching to the sky.
My power rose within me. Rooted, relentless, and as old as stone. Slow and patient like the power of the Earth.
I blasted Craos with a light so pure, so full of love and strength of self, that he screamed and disintegrated. The air cleared. Tiny wisps of ash drifted from where Craos had stood. The portal was sealed shut. I could feel it.
The vision faded. The Waterstone Guardian’s eyes, now full moons, regarded me with solemn acceptance.
You have passed through self and sorrow.
What could be is the door. Your intentions are the key.
You are not whole, but you are true. You have shown that you know who you are, and that you would banish your dark side and choose to defeat Craos in the final battle.
You have earned the Waterstone, but you must learn to control your dark side lest it take over.
For now, take the Waterstone and use it to seal the gateway to Craos’s realm once and for all.
But keep in mind that touching the stone will once again open the portal. Find the sword wielder. Two Shadowbane will appear with nightfall.
I swam down, the pressure building in my skull, my chest tight.
As I reached through ancient water and curled my fingers around the stone, a deep, mournful chord rippled outward, vibrating throughout the pool and cavern.
There was no surge of power like when I had touched the Rootstone. I didn’t hear Craos’s voice this time.
The Guardian drifted backward, vanishing into the darkness, and I turned and surged upward, lungs aching, the stone clutched tightly in my hand.
As I broke the surface with a gasp, the raging storm I had left lashed me, and I crawled onto the rocks under the cliff, coughing and trembling.
Then I stared at the Waterstone cradled in my palm as it slowly pulsed with living light.