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Skye’s arm hurt in Thea’s grip as Thea dragged her towards the surface, and towards Bascath Beach. All the previous times Thea’s hands had hurt her, crowded into her mind, making her feel sick with dread. Skye turned her head to see Hunter, his eyes on her, maintaining the distance demanded by Thea. Morgan, still mesmerised, held Hunter’s hand as they rose to witness the devastation unwittingly called down upon the village by Liam.
Skye could see sorrow in Hunter’s face. Morgan looked blissful, oblivious to the fate descending on them; on Rowena; on Ethan, and Annie, and every single person who counted Bannimor as home. Skye couldn’t let this happen. For the first time since the terror of the wave gripped her, she understood they had to stop it. Surely Hunter could do it. The second Morgan was free of his Mesmer, he had to stop the wave from bringing death and ruin to people she loved, to innocent people caught in this cruel cycle of curses and vengeance.
Their heads broke the surface and she stood, realising with shock that instead of sand beneath her feet, it was pavement. She’d seen a documentary where shallow water drew back into the coming Tsunami. But it wasn’t the case here. They stood shoulder-deep in rough water that surged over Marine Parade into the empty shops. The forerunner of the Tsunami had begun its work of destruction already. Perhaps it was because Liam’s curse had summoned this wave? Because it was coming to pull him, the last human with any blood of Lithus in him, into the depths of the ocean? She looked towards the Towers close by and saw a torrent of water pouring into gaping holes where glass had stood. Her eyes travelled up, and she saw water inside the building, pressing against the glass of upper floor windows as the sea searched him out, obeying his accidental summons. Skye knew that without the magic of the Seers making Liam one with the ocean, Liam had no chance. But anyone near him was dead, too. Ahead of them, the road out of the village was clogged with cars trying to escape with belongings. She heard the warning siren’s faint wail, caught wisps of screams, and glimpsed people climbing the steep road and the sheer hillside through the dense scrub.
She looked over her shoulder and saw a gleam of white, low on the horizon, the thundering top of the Tsunami now visible against the black sky. It looked like a tiny ruffle, but given the distance, it must already be as high as the cliff top of Ciarlan Cove. How big would it be when it reached them? Her heart thudded.
Morgan cried out as Hunter released her from his Mesmer and she saw the damaged buildings, and turned to see the still-distant wave speeding towards them. Then Skye felt a ripple of something, like energy, inside her chest. She looked at Hunter. He was straining, shaking with the effort of his focus as he stared at the horizon. She barely registered that Thea’s grip on her arm had let go until she felt her wrist grabbed and twisted behind her, and a sharp point dug into her neck. With a surge of horror, Skye realised that Thea’s other arm wasn’t useless at all.
“Look at me, Hunter!” Thea cried. “Do not stop the wave of death.”
Skye saw Hunter’s head turn.
“I saved a little souvenir from your injury,” Thea hissed, pressing the tip of the spear gun that Alan Noble had killed Daniel with. Skye guessed the bandage at her waist must have been to hold the spear hidden against Thea’s back.
“You know exactly how this spear feels piercing your body. You and your human witch share so much already. Shall I make being stabbed by this steel one of those things you share? She can join her father while you watch.”
Thea pulled Skye’s arm higher up her back and she stifled a cry of pain.
“You have given everything to this girl that you never gave to me,” Thea’s voice was low, and shook with bitterness. “You are worthless to me. And now that you are no longer Keeper, you are worth nothing to your clan.”
No longer Keeper. The words hung in Skye’s head, although her thoughts were sluggish with fear. No longer Keeper. She and Hunter had already worked that out. Why did it seem so important now?
“Not everyone would agree that Hunter is worthless,” a dry voice countered, and they turned to see Jarrod. Skye couldn’t see Thea’s face, but felt her jolt in shock, and the tip of the spear moved away from Skye’s throat. From the way Jarrod was standing, Thea probably had good reason to think she’d killed him.
“I think this is yours,” he said to Morgan, holding out the shell ring. His arm shook, and he could barely hold himself upright. Morgan stared at him, then numbly took the shell ring from his hand. “Does this make us even?” he asked.
“Not even close,” Morgan croaked, her voice cracking. The corner of Jarrod’s mouth turned up.
“This changes nothing,” Thea shouted. “I’ve beaten you once, Jarrod. I can do it again. And even with that shell ring, the wave will pulverise the human’s body. This village will end, as will all my enemies.”
Skye looked at Thea again. No longer Keeper. No longer Keeper.
He was no longer Keeper because he and Skye had released the stolen lives. The stolen lives who had travelled along Hunter’s connection to his clan. They lived in each of Hunter’s clan...including Thea.
Skye met Hunter’s tortured gaze. He had taken advantage of Jarrod’s interruption to keep trying to hold back the wave. But he was struggling. Could he do this? Although she couldn’t send words into his mind, she reached inside her for that part of him that nudged her soul, willing him to understand. “We must free the stolen lives,” she said.
“Shut up,” Thea snapped, putting the tip of the spear against Skye’s skin again and increasing the pressure on her arm until it burned. “What stolen lives? No one is going free.”
Hunter’s eyes widened, and when she saw him focus, she knew he had understood. The wave that had almost stopped inched forward again as he shifted his focus to call the stolen souls inside Thea to awaken. Would they hear him? Would it be too late for the village? Then Hunter nodded to Skye. The stolen souls were listening.
Skye spoke quickly to the souls buried deep within Thea. “Thank you for sharing your life force.”
“What?” Thea said.
“They took you from your bodies so long ago. They stole your lives from you. Thank you for keeping the survivors of Lithus alive.”
The pressure of the spear disappeared, and Thea’s grip on Skye’s wrist loosened. “Who are you speaking to?” Thea looked down, tilting her head to one side, as if listening to something within. “What is happening?” She sounded frightened.
“You know my voice,” Skye said, raising her voice as the noise of roaring drew closer. “I set you free to choose. To go into the elements, or go on, into peace, or go into the survivors of Lithus.”
“I said stop it!” Thea screamed, pushing the point against Skye’s neck again. “What are you doing to me?” But in her distress, she had let go her grip on Skye’s wrist and Skye twisted, feeling the metal scrape her neck as she spun to face Thea. Skye grabbed the shaft of the spear with both hands, preventing Thea from using it against her, and raised her voice even louder, still speaking to the stolen souls keeping Thea alive.
“You chose a survivor of Lithus. But do you know where you are? You are inside the soul of Thea, daughter of Seers. Thea, the cruel murderer. Thea, who was behind the wicked spell that took your lives and made you what you are now. And she is trying to kill me now. She is ending the lives of another entire village of innocent people. Do you want your stolen lives used by her so she can kill again?”
The roaring sound filling the air seemed to come from everywhere at once. Thea let go of the spear and pressed one hand to her midriff, the other to her chest, looking terrified. “What is happening?” she cried in a strangled voice. She looked nauseous, and suddenly hunched over, retching. When she raised her head and straightened, she backed away, her eyes staring in utter terror, trying to get away from something only she could see and feel.
Skye had felt before the seething, billowing sensation of a departing soul rising to the surface of her skin. She had felt them looking out through her own eyes, and had known their wonder at waking, their bitterness of realisation and sorrowful loss.
But these souls weren’t dying. They were furious; abandoning Thea, filling her with terror and misery, flooding her with the wretchedness of lives stolen and wasted by her, shifting and swirling, heaving and bursting out of her. Thea threw her head back as dozens of points of light spilled out of her throat, rising, then sinking one by one to hover above the surging waves.
As the last one passed her lips, Thea wailed in agony, holding out her arms and staring at them in horror as she dissolved. Fingertips, wrists, arms, shoulders, her beautiful face, every part of her dissolving into fragments that whirled like ash, breaking up in the wind, and falling scattered on the surface, sinking like stone dust into the ocean.
Skye stared at the empty sea where Thea had been. Tears streaked her face. She looked at Hunter, saw the horror and sorrow on his face, along with grim acceptance. Then she saw lights, flickering. The glowing lights of the souls who had escaped Thea. Like fireflies over the shifting sea, they seemed to flicker and dance. As she watched, they rose and drifted towards her, and hovered before her for a moment. Then, like shooting stars, one by one the tiny points of light shot into her chest and she jolted and shuddered with the impact.
Skye’s breath shook as she pressed her hand to her heart. Along with the escaped souls arriving, this time she sensed the familiar presence of Hunter. Not the fragment of his soul that rested against hers. It differed from that. At last she understood that his power that had sustained the lives for years beyond count was sustaining them still. And now, was also sustaining them inside Skye.
All around Skye the air seemed to vibrate with the sound that had been drawing closer until every fibre inside her shook with the noise and momentum. She looked around at Hunter, but saw instead a thundering wall of water, impossibly high, tearing towards them in a roar that promised death.
It was too late. There was no time to run.
