I stand, brushing dirt off my knees. “Activate?”
Rowan nods, thumbing the cover of the book he’s been holding. “If I’m reading this correctly, it requires two people.”
My pulse jumps, and I step closer, drawn to the book like it’s something living. The pages are yellowed, brittle at the edges, the ink faded but still legible. The language looks like some form of ancient Gaelic. It’s certainly not a language I’m familiar with.
“Why do you want to try to activate it?”
“If we can do this, it’ll confirm the truth of the Vaelthir.” His voice drops, rough with something like reverence. “I’ve always believed they existed. But belief isn’t evidence.” A pause. His fingers tighten on the book. “If the altar responds, the magic is real, and therefore, so were the Vaelthir. It would be a huge step towards confirming the existence of a previously unknown civilization.”
The magic is real.
The words hang between us, and I wish I could touch them. This isn’t just an academic exercise—it’s potential proof. Proof of something no one’s ever documented. Proof that the stories I’ve spent years devouring aren’t just myths.
I nod, letting out a shaky little breath. “I’ll help.”
Professor Vale’s gaze snaps to mine, and for a minute, we just stare at each other, both wondering if we’re on the precipice of something incredible, or about to look like silly fools. After a moment, he nods and starts flipping through the worn pages of his book.
“I think we start here.” He stops on a page near the middle, where a diagram sprawls across the paper. It’s a rendering of the altar, two figures standing at its base, hands joined. Arrows point to the symbols, annotations scribbled in the margins. He sounds uncertain, and I’m not used to hearing that in his voice.
It’s nice to know that Professor Vale’s just as human as the rest of us.
I lean in, close enough to catch the scent of him—ink and wool and the faint hint of campfire smoke. The forest seems to go preternaturally still around us, all birdsong quieting.
“Stand at the base of the altar, like in the diagram,” he says, gesturing to the open book. I do as he asks, my boots barely making a sound as I move around to where I need to stand.
The moment I step onto the flat stone at the base of the altar, my breath freezes in my lungs. The air feels different here. It’s thicker, charged, like the forest itself is holding its breath. Professor Vale sets the book down between us on the altar. Then he turns to me and takes my hands in his, and my stomach flips like I’m on a roller coaster.
His hands are so much bigger than mine. Warm. Strong. My pulse hammers in my throat, my fingers trembling just slightly in his grip. He doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t comment or let go.
I swallow hard. “What do I do?”
“Just stand here,” he murmurs, his voice low. “And don’t let go of my hands. If my translation is correct, this requires the energies of two connected people to work.”
I nod, my mouth suddenly dry. I have the strangest sensation that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
He starts to read from the book, the words rolling off his tongue in a chant-like rhythm. They’re not Gaelic, not exactly. The syllables twist and curl, unfamiliar but oddly melodic. Idon’t understand them, but my skin prickles anyway, like the words are sinking into me.
For a moment, it’s just us, holding hands, and Vale’s lovely deep voice speaking an ancient language. But then…the altar starts to glow. Actually glow.
A pulse of green light flickers beneath the sigils, soft at first, then brighter. I gasp, my fingers tightening around his. The symbols flare, one after another, like embers catching fire. Purple joins the green, and I watch, entranced, as they swirl together in a dance of light. The wind picks up, tugging at my braid, sending leaves skittering around our legs.
Professor Vale’s voice doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows stronger, more sure. The glow spreads, creeping along the stones like light made liquid, threading through the sigils until the entire altar is alive with it. My breath comes fast, and I feel dizzy. My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
He glances at me, just for a second, and the awe in his eyes mirrors my own. The forest around us fades into mist, and all I can see is him, the light, our joined hands.
Silver flame licks up from the altar, twisting into runes that spiral higher, higher, until they form a shimmering cage around us. My breath catches, lungs too tight, and for the first time, Rowan’s voice stutters. His fingers clench around mine, and the heat between us is searing, like holding onto a live wire.
He keeps reading, though. The words pour out of him, steady again, and the runes pulse brighter, faster. There’s the distinct feeling that we’re headed to some kind of culmination. My feeling is confirmed when a bright flash of light fills my vision.
A galaxy of color erupts around us, swirling so fast it blurs into a single, blinding ribbon of light. There’s a crack, the feeling of something snapping into place.
The light vanishes.
The sudden silence rings in my ears.
The forest exhales around us, leaves rustling like nothing happened.
I should step back. I know I should.
