The Parallels

I breathe in fresh, wet earth. Despite the impossible ache that’s settled into my bones, I feel relatively fine and upon a quick inspection of my body, am altogether unscathed. I’m also dry, save for the lingering dampness that’s clung to my clothes. As if boasting, my bracelet hums happily.

I flip onto my stomach and crawl up the embankment. Whorls of smoke lazily dance upward from a smoldering house ahead. By the looks of it, the fire was a few hours ago which means whoever started it wouldn’t be too far off. After a few moments of silence, I decide to approach the house and skirt around the perimeter. Multiple sized boot prints lead away from the home and pick up again on the adjacent road that leads away from it. I stay parallel to the tiny road, finding my way through the woods, until eventually, my body screams for rest. I sit down and set my bracelet onto the ground, hoping that it will do whatever it did before. Sure enough, a slow warmth spreads from my fingertips and out into my hand. I remain seated long enough to allow magic to revive my tired muscles, until I hear the scream.

It comes from ahead; likely the arsons have found another house. I’m on my feet and running toward the cries, ignoring my body’s protests. The woods give way to a small clearing where a small band of Herrings stands. It’s not Camus’ pack, but that doesn’t stop the hatred that burns its way through my veins. Armed with my dagger and magic I barely understand, I step into the clearing only to make it two steps before five hooded figures emerge from the woods to my right. I’d recognize the lead pursuant anywhere. Her movements are graceful, brisk and above all else, lethal. Bless the Mire for it has finally returned me to my kin.

“Leave him!” Oyera shouts. Her hood slips from her head revealing a long silver braid.

The Herrings toss the boy to the ground and the fight is instantaneous. I don’t hesitate as I launch myself into the heart of it. My blade sings as I land it into the side of an unexpecting Herring. When his body falls to the ground, Oreya’s there in his place.

In one movement, she sheathes her blades and bridges the gap between us. The other soldiers have already disarmed the Herrings and are working to free the prisoners. I don’t recognize any of the soldiers, but note that they’re much faster than most of our own.

“We thought you were dead.” She pulls me to her, then quickly holds me at arm’s length.

I ask the question I’d been holding onto since the Twin Frontiers Post. “Did everyone make it to Northpoint?” I hope that Darius’s contact was as trustworthy as he claimed.

“Ay, thanks to you,” she says as two soldiers come to her side. “Tend to the wounded if there are any, then gather the rest.” She commands, not taking her eyes from me. The soldiers walk away, and she continues. “We’ve been aiding stragglers who did not arrive before the first snowstorm. We have a few more days before the veilers can’t access their entry points again until Spring, so we’re trying to gather as many as we can.” Her eyes flicker to the surrounding woods. “Where’s Laurel? Rhian said you stayed behind to rescue her.”

I steady my gaze and focus on the thin, jagged scar etched along Oreya’s jawline. I’d always thought it looked like a shooting star. “I granted her Passage to the Mire,” I say softly.

Oreya brings her hand to her heart. “Oh Jules,” she falters. She drops one hand to the ground and reaches the other overhead. “May she rest easy. Until we meet again.” Our moment of privacy is over as the others form a loose circle around us. Oreya squeezes my arm before stepping away and addressing them. “We can offer you safe passage and protection to Northpoint,” she says gently. “The mountains are impassable now, but we won’t be traveling on foot.” She reaches down to her hip belt and pulls out a familiar object – Darius’s transference stone – which means he must have made it to Northpoint as well. Hope rekindles in me. “I’ll need you all to link hands.”

A couple of people look at each other sceptically. “Won’t they be able to use one of those and find us there?” asks an older man. The others nod in agreement.

“Northpoint is shielded with repellent magic. Only Northpoint veilers can cross through the veils. It’s the safest place in Lanel for mages and inerts who believe in the old ways,” she says.

One by one we link hands until we form a circle nearly fifteen strong. Oreya extends her hand to me before the sky blurs and we’re tumbling in blackness.

--

I’d imagined Northpoint as a sort of desolate, uninhabitable place, laden with subarctic temperatures and forceful winds, yet this landscape possesses none of that harsh severity. A snow-blanketed meadow sprawls out before us; its powdery tufts glisten in the sunshine overhead. After weeks of not hearing any animals in the Herring-infested woods, I relish in the song of the snow larks moving about the trees overhead. I’m too transfixed by the beauty of the meadow to notice two dark figures walking quickly toward us. Since Oreya does not appear alarmed, I take them to be allies. As they approach, I’m surprised to see that they’re both clad head to toe in fur, despite the mild temperature.

“These are the veilers,” Oreya says from behind me. “Two of nearly a dozen.”

They open the sacks and start distributing coats to the group. I slip my arms into a rich, brown jacket that falls to my shins and features a sizable hood that I tighten around my neck.

“All here?” The shorter of the two asks Oreya. Only his eyes are visible, yet they are nearly as dark as the fur surrounding them.

“Ay,” she nods. “Best get moving.”

“Where are we going?” A voice asks from behind me.

The other Veiler tightens the empty sack and folds it into his satchel. “Through the veil and into Northpoint before the storm gets feet under it.” He turns and begins walking.

And with that, we follow the veilers to the center of the meadow toward the outer edge of towering firs. Before we tuck under the first row of branches, the shorter veiler waves his hand in the air and the trees disappear, leaving a swirling haze of thunderous snow in their absence. The wind blows violently, and the temperature’s dropped a good ten degrees or more. Now this is the Northpoint I envisioned. The Veilers quicken their pace, and I’m grateful for the coat’s protective hood as the wind claws at my body.

Despite the snowfall, torches burn brightly through the blizzard and illuminate a steep walkway that leads to a large door. I’m surprised to find that the steps leading to the door are completely devoid of snow as is the air around them.

I wonder how much of what I’m seeing is real or how much is part of the veil; it’s impossible to know, which I suppose is the point. Before we reach the door at the end of the walkway, a narrow slit appears, and a shrill voice calls out.

“Commander Oreya, what news from below?”

“Affronted with a pack, but nothing we couldn’t handle,” she says to the faceless speaker. “Might we gain entry, Poe?”

“Ah, of course.”

The slit disappears, and the door achingly opens, revealing a continuation of steps that disappear down a narrow corridor. As I pass through the doorway, I look for the man who granted us entry, but I don’t see anyone

“He’s likely glamored himself,” one of Oreya’s soldiers says as he walks past. “Poe doesn’t take well to folk staring.” He smiles before helping two older men up the steps.

Once we’re all through, the door clicks shut behind us, then disappears entirely leaving a slab of stone in its absence. For the second time today, my ideas about Northpoint are challenged. The cold still lingers, but snowfall has ceased. I nearly bump into a girl in front of me who’s looking at the sky. I follow her gaze only to find a blizzard raging overhead, yet it does not reach us.

“It’s a shield they’ve placed over Northpoint,” she says. “At least that’s what father used to tell me.” I have a difficult time tearing my eyes from the gritty mix overhead, but the pathway widens and beyond it lies a small town carved into the base of the mountains. Small shops with darkened windows flank either side of the path. Ahead, the sun barely peaks over the mountains, even time seems different here than it did in the field. By my guess, it’s only early morning. I quicken my pace until I’m next to Oreya.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she says, glancing at the shops. “I thought the same thing.”

“How long until Levain opens a bakery?” I joke.

Her laugh echoes off the stone buildings. As if on cue, two figures appear at the end of the walkway. I’d know their movements anywhere; I’d grown up watching them. Levain and Silas are clad in rich fur coats murmuring to each other. Silas glances our way for just a second before returning to his conversation with Levain. In a flash, his head snaps back to us. He nearly drops the sack he’s carrying just as Levain turns her attention to what’s distracted him.

She cries out, let’s her bag fall to the wayside, and runs past Silas. I don’t know who reaches whom first as we fall into each other’s arms crying.

“We knew,” Levain says between sobs. “We knew you’d find us. When Rhian returned, we knew it was only a matter of time.” Silas murmurs in agreement. I’ve never been so happy to be home. My blood may be that of the Faren Primary, but my heart would always be with these two.

I pull away from them. “Rhian, is he okay?”

“They’re all safe,” Silas says. He looks up at Oreya who’s instructed the others to make their way to a sizeable, pillared building at the end of the pathway.

“Council will want to speak with her,” she says apologetically.

“Surely she can report to you tomorrow.” It’s not a question, and he doesn’t give her a choice as he steers Levain and me away.

I help them gather the rolls that have fallen out of their bags and onto the ground. “They have a council here?” I ask biting into one.

Silas hoists his basket into his arms. “Ay, something similar.” We walk from the main pathway toward the smell of hay and the sound of muted grunts. “When we arrived, our Elder Council was absorbed into Northpoint’s.” We come upon a fenced plot containing the biggest pigs and chickens I’ve ever seen. We dump the rolls over the fence and the feeding frenzy begins.

“Come.” Levain hands Silas her basket and throws her arm around my shoulder holding me close. “Let’s get you home.” She talks over my head. “Silas,” she starts.

He holds up his hands, stopping her mid-sentence. “He probably already knows,” he says eyeing me, “but I’ll go to his home nonetheless.” I know by their tone that they’re talking about Rhian, but something about the way Silas glances between us sparks my curiosity.

“How would Rhian know I’m here already? We’ve only just arrived,” I ask Silas.

He shifts his weight uncomfortably. “You best tell her,” he says to Levain. “I’ll go and make sure he knows at any rate.” He takes my face in his hands as if I’ll disappear again. “Be back shortly.” He smiles briefly before jogging away and disappearing around the corner.

I turn to Levain. “What’s going on?” I demand.

“I’ve missed your spirit,” she says, beaming. She wraps her arm around me once more and presses her head to mine in a familiar sign of affection. “When your troop reunited with us at Fewth Falls without you, Rhian’s magic erupted.”

“What do you mean by erupted?” I ask.

“We all felt his emotions; they swept across the village like a flood. Before he was captured, Elder Merrin finally subdued some of them so we could all function without wavering between fits of rage and sorrow nearly ten times a day.” Levain guides us to a narrow pathway lined with five, warmly lit structure no larger than sheds.

“Elder Merrin was taken?” I ask, puzzled as to why I didn’t see him with the others at the post.

She nods. “Ay, they took him along with the rest.” She stops in front of a dimly lit shack. “This is home,” she says.

It’s not until we pass through its doorway and I take in the familiar scene that I realize just how much I’d truly missed them. A dusting of flour coats most of Silas’s gadgets that are strewn about a small table. There’s a comforting aroma of baked bread hanging heavy in the air. I turn to Levain to find her waiting near the opposite corner of the tiny space.

“Where do you sleep?” There’s no sign of any beds nor space to house them.

Levain smiles and beckons me to her. “This is just for show,” she says, waving her hand over the room. She bends down and flips back a decrepit looking rug. She presses a tiny knot in the wood and a trapdoor slides open. I walk to where Levain stands, and I stare down a ladder that leads to a brightly lit room below. “Every cottage has one,” Levain says, hoisting herself onto the first rung, “just in case the veils are breached. Each underground dwelling is connected by a network of tunnels that have multiple exit points around the mountain range.”

She’s already at the base of the ladder below, but I stay glued to the floor. I couldn’t go underground, not after what happened at the post. The echoes of screams fill my head, and it’s only when Levain calls out my name that I realize that I’ve backed myself into the opposite corner near the door. Levain pokes her head up from the passageway when the front door snaps open. Rhian stands in the entryway along with Silas. When I meet Rhian’s gaze, I’m confident he knows what I feel before I even utter the words.

“I failed her,” I whisper letting the wall behind me carry the weight of everything I’d been holding.

It’s Silas who reaches me before I sink to the floor. He braces my arms with his hands and forcefully stands me upright. The surprise must register in my face because his hold slackens.

“You saved her from a fate worse than you can ever imagine. Let yourself mourn her Passage, but never,” he dries my cheeks with his sleeve, “let yourself feel guilty for it.” He guides me to the table and Rhian takes the seat across from me. “I think it’s best we stay up here,” Silas says to Levain as she flips the rug over the passageway. “She’s seen it too,” he says quietly.

Of course, it all made sense now. The need for the lanterns to always be burning. His fear of the dark. He’d been a prisoner at the Twin Frontier Post.

I take his hands in mine. “How long?” I ask.

His eyes cloud over with memories. “Less than a month’s time, but long enough to never forget.” He squeezes my hand and glances behind his shoulder to a small cot propped vertically against the wall that I had not noticed before.

“I’m so sorry, my girl,” Levain says knowingly.

Rhian’s slumped back into the chair looking as exhausted as I feel. He breathes in deeply, then breathes out through his mouth as if he’s expelling all the emotions he’s felt flowing from me. He quickly opens his eyes, and his face softens.

“Your magic,” I begin to say.

He cuts me off and looks at the door. “There will be time for that,” he replies, a little too calmly, “but Oreya needs you now.”

It’s only been a few weeks, but his mannerisms and demeanour already remind me of Elder Merrin.

“Rhian, your father.” There must have been another cell he was kept in. “I’m sorry.” I curse myself.

Rhian’s eyes flicker. “Jules, don’t feel that way.” His power was growing stronger. “You did what you could.” Something in the way he says it leads me to believe otherwise, and I’m almost relieved when there’s a knock at the door. I’m not ready to face this new version of Rhian, not yet at least.

Sure enough, when Levain opens the door, Oreya stands on the other side. “The council requests a word with you, Julianne, as do your friends who arrived only yesterday,” she says.

At this, I jump from my chair. With everything that’s happened, I hadn’t considered the fallout from Bearmoor. Surely the news of the Herring attack would have reached Arthin who would have tried to find Iofin.

Silas doesn’t bother to hide his annoyance as he stands. “No sooner do we get her back then she’s leaving again.”

“It’s fine,” I tell them both. “I’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll fashion a bed up here while you’re gone, love,” Levain says looking around the room. “You’re probably exhausted after everything.”

And I was, more than she knew, but I had to see the others first. I had to know they were all safe and much more, I had to speak to Arthin about everything I’d come to know. Levain sends me off with a slice of cheese and bread before shooting Oreya an annoyed look and retreating down the ladder.

Silas walks us to the center of town before parting ways, claiming he’d left something at his shop. Rhian walks with us but lingers a good ten paces behind Oreya and I. We take the pathway back through town toward the pillared building that rests at the edge of the village. We’re nearly there when I’m knocked backward by the weight of a memory.

“Just try one more time, darling,” my mother says sweetly. I swat away her hand in frustration.

“It won’t work!” I stomp my tiny foot on the ground angrily.

She brings me into her arms, into the smell of lilacs. I look up at her hopeful face. Her eyes are the color of a sunrise that wakes the violet-grey slumber of dawn.

“Let your mind go blank,” she says softly. “Think of the ocean, focus on its sound.” I glance at the tumbling water. “Close your eyes, my girl.”

I close my eyes and feel her hand slip into mine, then I focus on the roaring of the waves and let everything else fade into the background. My mother’s scent floods my senses until all that remains is the ocean’s song and the smell of lilacs.

Her voice breaks my concentration. “That’s my girl.”

I open my eyes. To my surprise, the ocean is gone and in its place is a stark green forest. I’d done it.

“Now I’m a bridger just like you,” I say to her.

Rhian and Oreya stare down at me, looking very confused and equally worried. My head aches as Oreya pulls me to my feet. The world sways for a moment as my mind fully comes out of the memory.

“What just happened?” Rhian asks.

“I’m wondering that myself,” Oreya says suspiciously.

“A memory,” I say rubbing my head.

“I’ve never had a memory that knocked me out cold before, Jules,” Rhian says. “What’s going on?”

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t quite understand myself?” I drop my shoulders, and Oreya nods. Rhian, on the other hand, does not move. “I have to talk to Arthin first.” I link arms with him, trying to get us back to like it was before. He only loosely holds onto me though. “I promise I’ll tell you later,” I whisper, as the entryway into the chamber comes into view.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He removes his arm my mine and folds his hands behind his back.

“I’m sorry,” I say, low enough for only him to hear.

He stares ahead. “For what?” he asks.

“For how I left things between us; for not saying goodbye before I left.” My voice falters.

He lets out a long breath. “You couldn’t have known.” He pauses. “You couldn’t have known things would turn out this way. Besides,” his eyes stare far off into the distance, “we found strength in each other.”

“Who?” I ask.

“Laurel,” he says plainly. His expression is unreadable, so I do the only thing I can, I use my magic. For a split second, I focus on the spot where our arms touch and channel his magic. The moment I read his emotions, I wish I never had. Blame, anger, sorrow, regret - they’re all there, fighting each other for dominance. I yank my hand away and stare into Rhian’s eyes.

“Rhian.” Words fail me.

He tucks his hands into his coat. “Don’t worry, Jules. I’ll be alright.” His eyes soften. “It’s all only temporary,” he says. Something in the way he says this makes me believe that he’s still trying to convince himself it’s true. “Just give me some time, that’s all.”

“Of course.” If it meant getting back my friend, then I’d have all the time he needed.

He nods, and we resume down the pathway toward the edge of the village where the council chamber lies.

Northpoint’s council chamber is much like our own was in Qyis, starkly decorated, save for a simple table lined with variously sized chairs in the center. What I don’t expect is the mass of familiar faces already filling those chairs once we arrive. Maira, Iofin, and Arthin are all seated at the table, as are our Elders. The only face missing is Darius. Arthin promptly rises and takes my face into her hands.

Something has changed. I hear her voice, but her lips do not move.

Then it dawns on me – my shield. I hadn’t guessed that the disappearing veil would mean my mind would be open as well. Not knowing how to respond to her, I do the only thing I can and concentrate on the words forming in my head.

It looks like I’ll have to practice shielding now, I project out to her.

Perhaps I concentrated a bit too hard, as Arthin brings her hand to her temple and smiles. Someone clears his throat behind us, and Arthin’s eyes darken for just a moment.

Think of the ocean, don’t let him in. Her words come quickly.

I don’t question her as I envision lustrous, aqua-marine waves crashing to the shore. The tricky part will be holding onto this image throughout this meeting. When Arthin turns back to the table, a man stands at its head. A smoky-white beard covers most of his weathered skin. He lifts his hands outward, gesturing for us to take our seats. I move to the open chair next to Iofin, who’s beaming, and am about to take a seat when the chamber door bursts open.

Darius stands in the doorway caked in snow as though he’d run down the mountains themselves. My body sings with every drop of magic as I step to him. His blue eyes flicker from my face to my hair and then back to my face, as if he can’t believe what he sees. Whatever I’d planned on saying is lost as he draws me into evergreens, winter nights and the comfort of his arms. The instant our bodies connect, magic explodes inside of me and releases an outpouring so palpable that the space between us buzzes wildly. He pulls away, and something in his expression lets me know that he felt it too. I want to ask him what just happened through my shield but can’t risk lowering my defences considering Arthin’s warning.

“Your eyes,” he says softly to me. It’s both a question and a statement as he looks at them in surprise.

“Darius,” the stranger’s bird-shell voice reminds me that we’re not alone.

I turn around to find that most of the room is watching us tentatively, wearing expressions ranging from slight amusement on Maira’s face, to concern on Oreya’s, to outright anger on Rhian’s. Iofin has moved to another empty chair allowing Darius and I to sit next to each other.

“Are the veils secure?” the man asks. His voice is no more than a whisper but holds the authority and steadfastness that quiets a noisy room.

Darius nods. “They are. Just came down from the east wall when I heard the news.” He quickly glances my way.

“Lieutenant Marner, please allow me to introduce myself. I’m Xavier, leader, and protector of Northpoint.” Given his tone, I half expect him to have me pledge my loyalty to him. Thankfully though, he continues. “I’m afraid the hour of your arrival and quite frankly, the urgency with which we meet tonight prevents me from showing you a more hospitable welcome. That aside, I am pleased to have you join us here at Northpoint. Your people tell me you’re quite the gifted soldier.” No one has told him about my magic. A quick glance at Arthin confirms my suspicions.

I lower my head in gratitude. “Of course,” I say calmly, “and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Northpoint safe.” I quickly cross my arm over my chest as I’d done a thousand times before to Oreya.

Xavier continues. “The timing of your arrival couldn’t be better. Winter has barely assaulted the mountains yet. Any later and you’d have to wait until late Spring to unite with your kin.” He looks up at the ceiling as if he can see through the chamber.

“What they’ve built here is quite amazing, Lieutenant.” Maira’s tone is surprisingly official.

“I’m sure you’ll find yourself right at home,” Iofin adds. There’s an extra sharpness to her smile, or maybe that’s just the torchlight reflecting on her fangs.

I’m taken back by their sudden coldness, but that’s when I feel it - a dull pressure prods at my temple like the steady pounding of a hammer. It’s almost exactly like the pressure I’d felt in the under the Twin Frontiers Post, like something is trying to get into my mind.

I blink my eyes against the mounting headache that’s started to form, when I feel his gaze bearing down on me. When I look over to Xavier, he’s grimacing as if he’s thinking hard about something. We lock eyes and the pressure in my head subsides. So that’s what it’s like to have someone try and break through your shield.

“We best start the day,” Arthin says a bit too loudly, given the size of the room and present company. She’s likely picked up on the exchange happening between Xavier and me. Beneath the table, I feel Darius’ hand slide onto my own.

“Ay,” Xavier says, turning his attention to Oreya. “What do your scouts report, Commander?”

Oreya folds her hands on the table. “Herrings have still been spotted near the outskirts of the western veils.” She pauses. “And another pack have broken camp to the east as well.” In other words, they’re surrounding Northpoint.

Xavier doesn’t seem at all disturbed by her news. “The storms will soon push them away from our borders. Until then, our veils have protected us since the Great Purge, now we just have to wait for nature to run its course.” He rises and speaks to me. “Lieutenant Marner, I would be honored to show you around Northpoint if you feel up to it.”

I exchange the briefest of glances with Arthin as she stands from the table. A barely noticeable nod passes between us before I say, “I would be delighted to see the sanctuary you’ve created here.”

He extends his hand to me and for the second time I feel the gentle pressure on my temples as I rise and move toward the door.

I follow Xavier through the door which opens to another pathway leading away from Northpoint’s center. Oreya accompanies us, claiming she needed to speak with some of her soldiers, but I can tell by her general unease that something is off with Xavier and she doesn’t want to leave me alone with him. We walk single-file up a meandering pathway that snakes along the base of the mountain before turning into a series of switchbacks. Above, the dome blocks the sound of the wind that relentlessly pummels snow against its opaque surface. Below, Northpoint grows smaller and smaller. We climb the last switchback and although Xavier appears fragile and old, he barely pants.

“I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve climbed that mountainside,” he says.

I push myself away from the rock face I’d been using as support. “Perhaps I will take watch down below,” I say between heaving breaths.

Oreya rests her hand on my shoulder, even she seems fatigued from the climb. “I’m sure Erique will be grateful for your help on patrol.”

“She’ll need a few days rest and some of Levain’s cooking before I put her to work again.” Erique emerges from around the corner looking more weathered and leaner than I remember. Surprisingly, he pulls me into an embrace. “It’s good to have you back, Jules.”

I hug him in return. “Did the troop make it safely?” I ask.

“Ay,” he says, pulling away. “Thanks to your bravery, we were able to gain the advantage on the Herrings and fight them off when they attacked our kin.”

I wouldn’t call what I did brave. Maybe if I hadn’t left the troop and gone off on my own, Laurel would still be alive and none of this would have ever happened. I’m left with my thoughts as an uneasy silence falls over us until Xavier breaks it.

“Just this way,” he points to the pathway ahead, “and you’ll find someone who is eager to see you again.”

As we turn the corner, more soldiers come into view. They’re all perched on the mountainside standing in pairs overlooking the forest below. Every so often, one of the two raises a cylindrical object to their eye and scans the canopy. Once the soldiers spot Xavier, they straighten and cross their arms over their chest. As we walk past them, I feel the prodding sensation in my head as if they’re trying to get through to me. I focus my thoughts on the ocean and drown out the feeling.

At the end of the soldiers stands a cloaked figure, who quickly passes her hand through a nearby torch over and over again. She barely notices our arrival and doesn’t salute Xavier like the rest. Instead, she focuses solely on me. Her hood slips from her head as she dashes over and takes my hands.

“Jules,” she brings my hands to her heart. “You made it.”

“Gabrielle.” The guilt of Oz’s death, her father’s death, it drops onto me like the snow above. “Gabrielle, I’m so sorry.” There aren’t enough words I can say to express my sorrow or repay Oz’s debt.

She pulls me to her and we stand mere inches apart. She has Oz’s eyes, I see them same fire burning brightly behind them. “My father died a hero.” She gathers me into a hug. “Don’t trust him.” She says it so softly that when she pulls away I wonder if she spoke the words at all. She turns to Xavier, “I’ve seen no movement to the East and request to take leave and join the veilers below.”

Xavier glances between us. “Ay,” he says.

“I’ve been on watch since last night,” Gabrielle explains to me. “I would stay longer but I don’t think I’d make it down the mountain before I fell asleep.”

“I will find you again, Gabrielle. Anything you need, I’m forever in your kin’s debt.”

She hugs me again and suddenly, there’s a new weight in my pocket when she pulls away. “I’ll be seeing you soon.” She brushes past as I place my hand in my coat and feel the familiar coolness of the transference stone.

“She’s been asking about you since she arrived.” Xavier glances over the edge. “I think it’s the reason why she agreed to take watch up here.”

I stare into the flames of the nearby torch. “I owe her a life debt.”

“She never speaks of what happened at the post,” Xavier says. “But her silence is enough to know that she lost someone.”

I wasn’t about to divulge anything to him, especially considering the warning Gabrielle whispered to me. “What happened in those tunnels will stay there forever,” I offer.

When I don’t give him any more, he nods his head and tells me more about Northpoint until the sun dips low on the horizon and sleep coaxes me back down the mountainside to home.

Only a few hours have passed when I’m awoken by a sharp knock at the door. The shack is near dark save for the solitary lantern perched between Silas’s tools on the table. I slowly rise from the cot that Levain has fixed for me and trudge to the door. Darius stands, shrouded in all black, on the opposite side.

“Come with me,” he says briskly.