The silver woman’s voice was hurried as she met her gaze again. “Everything you have been through has led you here. Use your past as a guide to get you through. I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m—”
Isla blinked. And the woman was gone. The silver pool and the grove vanished.
She was back in the forest, surrounded by the wood-crusted warrior women. They were still frozen. But not by an invisible force.
Lark was standing in the middle of the army, her knees bent and arms outstretched, holding them at bay. Rain pelted her brow and melted down her neck. A storm had formed above them.
“Where is she?” Isla gasped, whirling around. “Where is the woman?”
“What woman?” Lark growled, as she flung the woods-warriors away, controlling them all at once. Her wounds were beginning to stitch back together.
Isla frowned. No. It had beenreal. All of it. “What—”
A resounding boom rang through the forest. Through the universe. The rest of this world seemed to shrink into a whisper.
Another. And another. It was like a giant walking toward them.
Lark’s power flickered out for just a moment. And in its absence, the warrior women did not attack. Instead, one after another, the women scattered, rushing back into their trees. Sealing themselves into the bark.
But it was no use. The night stilled—then shattered, and darkness rippled before them in a wave that flattened the woods, turning the trees to ash. Then that ruinous void took the form of a man.
Not just any man. He looked so much like her husband that her heart stopped for a second. But she knew exactly who this was.
Cronan.
GRIM
“Well?” Grim said to Azul, the moment they landed back on the Skyling newland.
He was impatient, restless. His skin felt too tight. Isla was in trouble, he was certain. His chest ached, as if his very soul was telling him something was very wrong.
When Azul didn’t immediately answer, Grim used his abilities to comb through the Skyling’s emotions. They were all over the place—peace, fear, trepidation, dread—though he was doing a good job of keeping his expression steady.
“Spit it out,” Grim snarled, when the Skyling remained quiet. He ignored Oro’s glare at his tone.
Finally, Azul said, “My husband told me that the oracles on Moon Isle had a mother, back in the otherworld. She drowned in an ancient, hidden pool of water. Her body was frozen in ice. Many years later, it was stolen. She was cut open, and the water in her lungs was taken to create other pools.” Grim didn’t know what a dead oracle’s lungs had to do with finding his wife, but he forced himself to stay quiet. “The Moonling ruler who joined the founders of Lightlark had a vial and poured it into a place on Lightlark. This water is all connected by an ancient enchantment. The original pool is in the otherworld. If it still exists...”
“Then we could use the connection between the waters as a portal,” Oro murmured.
Azul lifted a shoulder. His sky-blue cape rustled. “My husband wasn’t convinced it would work. Even if you found the pool on Lightlark, we still wouldn’t know how to make it into a portal.”
Grim would figure it out. Hope, as ruinous as it may be, blossomed in his chest. At least this was a start. Finally,somethingthat could help him get to her. “Did he tell you where the pool was on the island?”
Reluctantly, Azul nodded.
“Where?”
It took seconds to get to Lightlark. To portal onto one of its beaches. A white cliffside stretched above them, hugging the shore. Sea-foam splashed beneath their boots.
“I don’t see a pool,” Grim said, shadows puddling, searching, his knuckles whitening as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Everything and everyone were moving far too slowly. Did no one else operate with urgency?
If only he had taken the time to study the mind portion of his abilities further. Perhaps he could pluck all the answers he needed from the Skyling and save himself this torture.
“It’s only revealed in high tide,” Azul said. He motioned toward craters in the sand. “The ancient water is buried below. It rises when the sea fully rushes in.”
Grim bared his teeth. He didn’t have time for the fuckingtide.
He whirled toward Oro. “Make it high tide,” he demanded.
