Fix your future. That was exactly what she wanted to do. She didn’t care who this woman was if she could help her forge a new fate.
“How do I do that?” Isla asked.
She motioned toward the pool. Isla stepped beside her and peered into it. She winced at her reflection. Blood crusted her face. Her hair was matted, and her armor was filthy.
Then a single ripple formed from the center of the pool, moving out in perfectly positioned rings. Her reflection wobbled in the waves, distorting—
Until the surface of the water changed.
It became a mirror of all the memories she had just lived through in that forest. Her upbringing. Her training. It flashed before her like an entire childhood of pain and loss and loneliness was distilled into a single second.
And then the pool went still again.
Isla didn’t realize she was on her knees until she saw herself reflected once more. She didn’t realize she was crying until the woman placed a hand on her shoulder.
Now that she wasn’t in immediate danger...now that she was in this grove...so many emotions came flooding up to the surface.
Her training, her guardians. All the bones broken, all the skin shredded, all the injuries, all the responsibility, all the blame, all the isolation. All the betrayal. All thelies.
She couldn’t breathe—she felt like she was choking from the pain of it all. Before she could get a word out, the woman’s arms were around her in a comforting embrace.
And Isla sobbed.
“I was just a child,” Isla said, gasping out the words. The realization had really only come to her now. She had always thought her training had been fair. Necessary. She only got what she deserved. She was only trained so hard because she would have it so hard at the Centennial.
But now...seeing it all back...
She remembered how horrified she was when Grim told her about his upbringing. It was only now that she understood that her training had been just as barbaric.
“I was just a child,” she repeated, her voice trembling. “Just a child who was alone and wanted to be loved. I was forged into a weapon, and I—I never wanted this,” she said, feeling like she was eight years old again, begging the world for mercy.
The woman nodded and hummed, smoothing her hair down like a mother would. “You were just a child. You never wanted this,” she repeated, and the validation of hearing it from someone else...It was everything.
“I don’t want to keep going,” Isla said, sputtering. And she knew it was a weak, horrible thing to say, after everything she had done to get here. After everyone she had killed. She knew she sounded like a child. “The road has been so hard already.”
But the woman didn’t judge her. She pulled away slowly in order to rest her hands on Isla’s shoulders and lock eyes with her. “It will only get harder,” she promised. “But you have only gotten stronger. And that strength...it has no limit.Youhave no limit. You are a sword. You will cleave through the present and shape your future to your will. Fate will fear you.”
Isla’s chin quivered, and she bowed her head. She didn’t want to be strong anymore. The woman cupped her cheek so Isla would look at her again. “This place will always be here for you when you need it,” she said. “When you start to doubt yourself, I want you to picture a pool, reflecting every moment you were brave. Every moment you fought, when it was easier to give up. This silver will remind you of your strength. It will be your shield. For this pool is bottomless, just like you. It was here long before me and will be here long after any of our names are nothing but a forgotten echo in the universe.”
“But I’m dying,” Isla said. “My life-force...it’s almost gone.”
With that, the woman pooled some of the silver water in her hands, and offered it to Isla. “Drink. It will give you a little more time.”
Isla didn’t know how a pool would help her, but she was desperate. She drank, and felt that silver water slide down her throat—then shoot through her veins, reigniting her energy. “Thank you,” Isla said.
“You aren’t saved yet,” the woman said. “I’m just giving you what everyone deserves—a chance to save yourself.”
As Isla dried her tears, she wondered how this woman, this stranger, could believe in her more than she believed in herself. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, the woman was there, waiting. “Tell me there is an end to this.”An end to this pain. An end to this fight. An end to this suffering.
“Night always turns to day, Isla.” The woman’s eyes flicked to Isla’s wrist. To the charm her mother had given her. “And you can see the end of this. When you’re ready.”
“Am I ready?” Isla asked. Needing someone to tell her, because she truly didn’t know what she was doing. Not anymore. Not ever, by the way things were working out.
“Not if you have to ask,” the woman said. She opened her mouth again—then her entire expression changed. She gripped Isla’s hands tighter and looked frantically over her shoulder. “He’s coming.”
He. Isla didn’t need to ask who she meant.
The forest trembled. The water rippled once more.
