CHAPTER

52

SKYE

41 DAYS UNTIL THE AUTUMNAL EQUINOX, BREAKING DAWN

Zane prowled around the City. He was more restless than I was, which said something considering I’d woken well before dawn and had been dying to leave ever since. And Zane wasn’t the one leaving—that was me.

He stopped me on his third pass. “Skye, have you seen Lana? I can’t find her.”

“I haven’t. But I don’t think she was planning on coming, do you?”

“No. But I’ve surfed with her at dawn every day for almost three weeks, just me and her. I just thought—” He stopped. “I don’t know. That she would’ve at least waited to say good-bye or something.”

I frowned. “Why? Where are you going?”

“I wasn’t talking about me. I was talking about Lana. She’s gone.”

Gone?”

He nodded. He ran his hands through his messy bleached hair, perpetually stiff with salt. Eyes closed, he gave the whisper of a laugh. “Want to hear something crazy? I don’t know if I like her because I like her or because Nil’s screwing with my head. Seriously in my head. I mean, do I like her because she’s the most badass surfing Betty I’ve ever ridden a wave with, and because together we’re riding swells that make my hometown waves look like a kiddie pool? And she’s smart and funny when she’s not trying to be some version of a Maaka island mystic? Or do I like her because I dream about her, because this place won’t let me stop thinking about her?” He looked at me as if he needed an answer and hoped I might have one tucked in my satchel. “I don’t know, Skye. It’s so messed up. Which Lana is the one I know?”

“Maybe they both are.” I smiled, hopefully reassuringly. “Maybe they’re not so different. Trust your head, but most of all, trust your heart.” Because the island doesn’t have one, I thought.

Or does it?

As we left with first light, I thought of all that Zane didn’t say. That he suspected he and Lana were more—and that somehow he knew her absence meant more too.

Lana’s gone, I thought.

I felt the truth of it, that she’d left the City. Maybe permanently.

I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d received the call she’d been waiting for. Me, I was traipsing off uninvited, and I wasn’t crashing the Nil party alone. I had Rives, Thad, Davey, Hafthor, Molly, Paulo, and Kenji. Hafthor had switched with Calvin at the last minute, sticking close to Paulo with the most serious of bearings. This time we didn’t have even numbers, but then again, it wasn’t really my choice to turn people away. And part of me thought the more eyes the better. Maybe someone else would see what I couldn’t.

Yesterday Dominic had volunteered to come, even though I knew he had serious reservations about walking inland. I wasn’t sure if he’d changed his mind about joining us after all, because when it was time to leave, he was as absent as Lana.

Look, Skye.

Look for what you don’t see.

Every step, every minute, I heard the whisper, felt the pull. I never stopped looking as we walked.

We passed quickly through the Flower Field, where color patterns shifted with the breeze, and onto the ancient lava flow to the south, where cracks fissured the gray ground like a deadly web. To the north, red gleamed, another lava flow, newer yet still older than I could possibly guess; it tinted the sky rust. The cliffs of the southern shore guarded the side on our right, a dusting of black that ended in Nil sky; beyond them the ocean boomed with reassuring constancy.

Look, crooned the breeze.

Look for what you don’t see.

“I don’t see any animals, Rives,” I said slowly. It was early afternoon. “Not even small ones. Not even a mouse.”

“No people either,” Rives observed.

“It’s like the island is helping us,” I said.

“Or herding us.” His voice was grim.

“I pick the former,” I said, smiling.

“I know you do.” His jaw stayed tight. His eyes never rested as he swept our surroundings, like me. But I wasn’t sure we were looking for—or seeing—the same things.

Another step, another hour, one rolling into the next. The sun grew warmer, and stronger. One by one we all wrapped our shoulders and heads with cloth to ward off a major burn. The gentle breeze stayed steady, blowing from the south; nothing changed but the scenery. Boulders shifted and changed, morphing in size and shape from one mile to the next, clumps of scrub brush crouched without moving. There were no animals, gates, or people. The lack of life was eerie, even for Nil.

The rusty red to our left faded; the black lava field around us gave way to tangled thickets and tall grass. Green shoots filled the meadow, hope rising from the ashes.

“Tiger,” Kenji said abruptly, pointing with his bokken. At the far end of the meadow, the massive striped cat stood as still as death, facing us.

Davey swore. He turned to me and Rives. “Now what? Go back?”

“I think we’re okay,” I said.

“You think?” Davey raised his brows. “Bloody big risk to take on a hunch, Skye.”

“Woman’s intuition,” Molly interjected with a wink. “And experience.” She turned to me. Her levity faded. “This is the same tiger that let you go last time, right?”

I looked back at the tiger. Was this the same one?

For one long moment, I swear he looked at me. Just me, his big golden eyes somber and keen, as if he knew all there was to know, as if he were wishing for me to see.

Then the moment passed.

He swung his head toward the coast and snatched something out of the air.

“Bloody hell. Did you see that?” Davey gaped. “That big kitty just grabbed a fish out of the air.”

Hafthor squinted. “A grouper.” He nodded, as if the airborne fish snack was unsurprising. “Dominic is here.”

The tiger lay down with his catch, literally.

“Let’s go.” I spoke with confidence I felt. “Hug the mountain, and we’ll be fine.”

“It feels right,” Hafthor said quietly. “Here, the hidden people are not unhappy.”

“And that worries me,” Rives said as he looked around.

Single file, we circled the mountain, keeping the slope on our right. The tiger watched us as he ate his lunch.

We passed the rock bearing the Bull’s-eye carving and kept walking, hugging the mountain, working our way around to the steps leading up to the platform. Creeping up the mountain, the steps angled away, angled back, toward the platform just out of sight.

I walked past the steps to the coastline’s edge and peered down.On a line directly across from the base of the steps that led to the platform, another pair of steps curved down. Camouflaged among black rock, the subtle path was easy to miss, especially if you weren’t looking.

But I was, now.

And every instinct I had told me that these steps led to more than another Nil beach. Excitement flooded my veins as I spun around to face Rives, smiling like the crazy girl I wasn’t.

“Isn’t this cool? These steps have to lead somewhere important. After all, the matching set leads to the platform, right?”

I started down but Rives pulled me back. “Hang on a sec,” he said. He peered over the cliff’s edge, his expression flickering between anxiety and dread.

“You worry too much,” I teased. I squeezed Rives’s hand, willing him to feel the rightness of the moment, knowing he would if he just stopped worrying. “Trust me; we’re where we’re supposed to be; I feel it.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him fiercely. And then I pulled back.

“I love you,” I said, placing my hand on his heart for one steady beat. “Now let’s go!”

I was first down the steps, Rives and Molly just behind me.

“Oh,” Molly breathed. “It’s gorgeous.”

It was. At the bottom of the cliff, I stared in wonder. Chunky rocks glistened like black jewels jutting above the water, covered in spray from crashing waves. To the left, clustered into a long oval shape, the rocks formed an open-air swimming pool, completely enclosed. The breeze blew, wafting a hint of sulfur.

“I know this place!” Paulo snapped his fingers. “The hot springs. My brother told me about it. This pool is heated by the volcano, so it’s warm.”

“Warm or hot?” Hafthor frowned.

“Warm.”

Behind the pool, a long ledge ran along the cliff’s base, like a knee wall; it disappeared around the corner of the bay, curving out of sight. Near the far end, a hole gaped at us, the opening of something.

Look.

I started over, walking along the ledge. Rives grabbed my arm from behind. “Skye, stop. Look at the entrance.” He gestured ahead. “Dead animals. And bones. Something’s already in there, something that might still be hungry. Maybe that’s where all the small animals went.” He shot me a pointed look.

I squinted at the opening, and sure enough, Rives was right. Bleached bones lay scattered around the entrance, along with a freshly killed raccoon. I was desperate to know, but I didn’t want a run-in with a predator, either.

No other caves were in sight.

“There must be another cave,” I said stubbornly. “There has to be.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He looked north. “I’ll scout out around the corner.” He glanced at Thad, who nodded, then Rives raised an eyebrow at me. “Stay clear of that cave, okay?” And the unspoken: Don’t do anything stupid.

“Stop telling me what to do,” I said irritably. “And for the record, I don’t have a death wish.” I glared at him.

He smiled. “I know.” His eyes grew flinty. “But Nil does.”

“That’s a good thing. We want Nil to die, remember?” I waved my hand. “Go. Be careful.”

After giving me a long look, Rives went, with Thad and Paulo by his side. Hafthor, Molly, and Davey waded into the pool.

I slid into the water, using the time alone to think. Warm water wrapped me in comfort, too deep to stand. Hanging on to the ledge, I relaxed, listening to Molly laugh and Davey crack jokes, wondering where Dominic was and why Hafthor was so silent.

Look for what you don’t see.

It’s under the water, I thought suddenly. Just like the Looking Glass Cavern.

I slipped under the surface.

I swam forward, passing the legs of Hafthor and Molly and Davey in the clear water as I felt along the edge, swimming south, leaving the cave with dead bones at the entrance behind. Up ahead, with a gap as wide as a car, an opening in the rocks beckoned.

Come.

I was being called.

With a deep breath, I swam into the hole, feeling my way with my hands and pulling myself along. I surfaced into a small cavern, in the midst of a pool the size of a hot tub. Light leaked from an opening on the far side. Molly popped up beside me and tapped me on the shoulder.

“You’re mental, you know that?” She grinned.

I laughed. “Not a bit.”

Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the dim light.

“Isn’t that the same carving that’s in that other cave?” Molly said. “The Looking Glass one?” She pointed to the wall, where a single carving watched us: a large eye, five feet across at least, etched inside a diamond. No other carvings were in sight. This cave was significantly smaller than the one housing the Looking Glass pool on the other side of the island, but still had one striking similarity: a passageway, curving inland, curving back, toward the mountain—just past the carving of the eye. It was the source of the light.

“I’m going in,” I told Molly, climbing out of the water and peeking into the passageway. At its end, light beckoned.

Molly followed.

“For the record, this might be a bad idea,” she said.

“For the record, so noted.” I couldn’t stop smiling. It didn’t feel like a bad idea; it felt like the most perfect idea in the world, the natural thing to do. The right thing to do.

I felt the rightness of this moment in the very essence of me.

We made it through the passageway quickly. Now we stood inside another cavern, one with a pool of water bigger than the last; it matched the size and shape of the pool in the Looking Glass Cavern exactly. It too had a skylight, just like the Looking Glass Cavern, but no water poured into the cavern from the hole, only light.

This cavern radiated light.

“This is it,” I whispered reverently.

The water’s surface shimmered like mercury glass, infused with light, not unlike the iridescence of a gate—but richer. Deeper. Like it could birth a gate, like it held life.

Color rippled beneath the water’s surface, shifting into silver and then disappearing altogether. The water turned clear and pure, then another hint of color would sparkle. Silver flashed. Colors and light and metal swirled and vanished; the water glittered like a diamond.

I was utterly bewitched.

“What is this place?” Molly asked. She was looking at the walls surrounding the pool. They were pristine, not a carving in sight. If human hands had touched them, they’d left no sign.

“I don’t know.” I crouched, mesmerized by the liquid light. I had the urge to touch the pool, like I’d wanted to stroke the captivating onyx of the incoming gate near Black Bay. The water rippled inches from my hand, like a diamond pulse.

Skye. Whispers in my head crooned like warm silk, begging, wanting.

Look.

See.

I held my hand over the water. In response, the water’s surface brightened, the colors beneath rippling and twinkling and shifting faster. More flashes of silver, more light.

Yessss, it seemed to say. Touch.

“Skye, I don’t think you should touch it.” Molly’s voice was worried.

“It’s okay.” Molly didn’t understand, not like I did. I had to touch it. I had to see.

I gently touched the water with one finger. It felt more thick than wet. Before I could blink, my entire hand was sucked beneath the surface.

My mind exploded into a fireball of color and light and sound.

Me, crouched by the pool, aching to see; Molly, reaching for me, her eyes wide in fear. Rives, spinning around, his face draining of color.

More.

Thad, watching Rives stumble, dread squeezing Thad’s lungs; Paulo, shouting for me, the sea stealing his words. Hafthor, leaving the water, certainty in his steps; Davey, searching for Molly, fear in his heart. Lana, facing the mountain, shock on her face; Carmen, glaring at the meadow, hate in her heart. A boy named Dai, curled on the sand, sick with fever.

More.

Charley, begging Rika, Uncle Scott’s journal in her hands. My dad, closing his eyes, lifting up prayers.

More.

Davey, staring at Molly, aching for her. Charley, touching Thad’s scar, aching for him. Rives, smiling at me, aching for us.

Zane, surfing beside Lana, riding sheer hope.

Jillian, clinging to Rives, tears in her eyes.

A boy with hair like fire, bleeding on the sand.

A girl with hair like obsidian, collapsing on the rocks.

Charley, falling into a gate, a scream on her lips.

Thad, his torso dark with blood, a cheetah on his shoulders.

A girl with strawberry-blond hair, setting a boy’s broken arm.

A boy with dark hair, staring at his reflection.

A boy with a shell necklace, sleeping forever.

Images played and time blurred, running backward, forward, sometimes horizontally.

And then everything stopped.

It was the beginning.

The choice, and the chosen. The island unfolded, the bloom of a new bud. The first gate rose, blossoming like a flower on the first day of spring.

There was the prince, regal and brave, striding through the first gate, curiosity and hope in his heart, a snow-white cat following one heartbeat later. The gate closed; the interval chosen. There was the prince, standing tall, marveling at the island’s beauty and peace, his strength and respect for the earth flowing to the island and leaving a mark. There was the princess, waiting outside, head held high despite the fear in her heart, demonstrating a different kind of strength.

A new time, a new gate. The prince and princess together again, revealing the unbreakable power of a pair.

I saw it all and felt the same. One after another, the island’s memories became mine, trapped in my head for me to see and understand and feel. Every word spoken, every thought, every choice made. Every victory, every defeat.

Every life.

Every death.

More, the island whispered.