It is not a cave. It is not a grove.
It is a tear.
In the middle of a ring of ancient, black stones, the air itself is ripped.
It shimmers. It moves. It looks like water, hanging straight up and down. It is a curtain of light, colors I do not know swirling deep inside it.
It hums, a low, powerful note that vibrates in my teeth and makes my bones ache.
The Wildspont.
It is beautiful.
And it is terrifying.
I set Betty down on her feet. She stares at the shimmering light, her mouth open.
"The Wildspont," she gasps. Her wish.
She looks at it with hope.
I look at it with fear. This is magic. Old magic. Strong magic. Magic changes things.
She lets go of my hand and takes a step toward it, her own hand outstretched, reaching for the light.
No.
Panic, cold and sharp overwhelms me.
It will take her. It will change her. It will erase Us.
I grab her. My hand closes around her arm. Hard.
She cries out, startled. "Threk!"
I pull her back against my chest.
"No." I growl, my voice a low, fierce shake.
I stare at the shimmering, humming light. I will not lose her. Not to elves. Not to magic.
I hold her tighter, afraid she will go inside alone.
“We have to enter, Threk,” she whispers, brushing her palm against my face. I lean my head onto her warm palm, savoring her heat and sweetness.
“Threk,” she repeats again as if afraid I won’t hear.
I suck in a deep breath, staring at her face and branding her in my memory. I cannot change her mind. There’s no going back.
"We must go together,” she speaks softly as if begging me.
I nod.
And dragging her with me, I step through the light.
22
BETTY
