The Source…
“Yes, the Source. What did you mean? How is she connected to it?”
The Source… the Source is in danger…
“Asteria, I don’t understand. What does that mean? Is the girl the danger?”
The Source… you must protect the Source… find the girl… we can’t… we’re so lost…
“Asteria, why is it in danger? From what?”
So lost… so dark… all of us trapped…
Her voice, still so far away, was broken and trembling. My heart leaptup into my throat at the sound of it, tears welling in my eyes. It was unbearable, that fear in her voice. I bridged the last of the distance between us at a run, all fear swallowed up by a deep need to comfort her. At last I reached out and, grasping her hands in mine, pulled her around to face me.
Where Asteria’s face had been, there was just… emptiness. A smooth featureless stretch of void, from her hairline to her chin. It was as though someone had come and erased her.
I screamed, and the place in which we stood together shattered.
7
Iwoke to someone slapping my face. Hard.
“Ow!”
“Wren!Gracias a la diosa!”
I opened my eyes to find Xiomara staring down at me with a panicked expression. There was a sheen of sweat on her face, and her eyes were bright with fear.
“Xiomara?”
“Yes,mija. Sit up. Sit up and drink some of this.”
I found I hadn’t the strength to sit up on my own, but Xiomara was already tugging at me. She hoisted me into a sitting position against something hard and wooden, which I realized after a moment was the rocking chair she had been sitting in when we’d begun our scrying session. Before I could get my bearings, she was shoving the rim of a ceramic mug against my lips, and I sputtered as the hot liquid sloshed into my mouth.
“What is… how did you… is that tea?” I gasped.
“Enough questions. Just drink.”
I blinked around. We were back in the garden of Shadowkeep. All that had vanished—the breeze, the sound of the ocean, the hydrangea bushes and, of course, Xiomara herself—had all returned, so that mysenses were momentarily overwhelmed at the rush of input. I knew I wouldn’t get so much as a whiff of an answer to any question until I’d done as Xiomara asked, and so I let her pour more of the bitter tea into my mouth. After a few swallows, I was grateful for it; the tea, whatever was in it, cleared away the confusion and made me feel steady and lucid again.
“Better?” Xiomara asked, with the air of someone who already knew the answer.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Can you stand?”
“Yeah, I… ugh, no. Not yet,” I replied, as I tried to raise myself, and felt my head spin. “I think I still need a minute.”
Xiomara only grunted in reply, and held the cup out to me again. Obediently, I forced down several more swallows, and after a minute or so I felt steady enough to maneuver myself off the grass and into the rocking chair Xiomara had previously been occupying.
“What happened?” I asked. Had it been this cold when we’d begun? I was shuddering with chills.
“You stole my question, child,” Xiomara said. She was looking at me as though my face was a clump of tea leaves she was trying to read. “Tell me what you experienced, and I might be able to tell you what happened.”
I hesitated, playing for time. On the one hand, I wanted to understand. On the other, I didn’t want Xiomara to know about Jess and the book. Not yet, anyway. I settled on the truth—or, part of it, anyway.
“I looked into the birdbath and something moved, like a shadow. Then, suddenly I was in this sort of… emptiness.”
